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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097189">Here and Now</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood &amp; Manga</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Blood and Injury, Comedy Elements, Ed needs a hug, Edward Elric Is A Little Shit, Edward Elric Swears, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Ill try to keep them out of the focus when able, Im sorry guys they annoy me in fics too but you gotta push the plot somehow, Parental Roy Mustang, Slow Burn, So Does Al, So are some other characters - Freeform, Some characters from the 2003 anime appear, Torture, Villian is an oc, crime-drama elements, i cant promise any more than a mediocre plot dont stare at the holes for too long, listen guys im mostly writing this because i love angst, poor alphonse has to babysit his older brother, takes place before the series but after ed becomes a state alchemist</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-09 04:00:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>33,292</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097189</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Ed and Al are called to East City for a mission from Mustang, but soon it's clear that this time, there's more than what meets the eye.</p><p>Cross-posted on ff.net</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alphonse Elric &amp; Edward Elric, Alphonse Elric &amp; Roy Mustang, Alphonse Elric &amp; Winry Rockbell, Edward Elric &amp; Roy Mustang, Implied Royai</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>77</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>From the moment Ed woke up that morning, he was already pissed off. The most recent expedition for the Philosopher's Stone was a bust, and thanks to small town hotel service, there was basically no heating in his room despite the winter climate. Not to mention his subconscious had a fun habit of making his dreamscape a hellscape, so he hadn’t exactly slept well either. His annoyance was only amplified when a letter arrived from his dick boss. Apparently now he was needed back in East City too. And, weirdly, a note at the bottom specified to bring Al as well.</p><p>“He better not be trying to drag you into his power-hungry military shit.” Ed mumbled. It was weird for the Colonel to specify to bring his brother. Not that Ed wouldn’t have done so anyways.</p><p>“Maybe it’s a new lead?” Alphonse wondered.</p><p>“You’re being too optimistic, he probably just wants us to do his paperwork while he fucks off for vacation time again.” Ed’s voice was snappier than usual, even for him. His eyebrows furrowed as he wrapped more blankets around himself. The chill was really starting to make his stumps ache. Alphonse seemed to notice his problem, soulfire eyes shifting up to Ed’s shivering body.</p><p>“You really should eat more brother, you seem colder than usual,” Alphonse’s voice was tinged with worry. “You get sick every year, you need to keep your immune system up.”</p><p>“I’m fine, Alphonse, really, just a little cold.”</p><p>Ed could tell by his brother's eyes that he felt differently. It was crazy, really, how easily he could still read him through the armor. Ed supposed they were just connected that way. Metal or not, Al was still his family.</p><p>They each got ready in comfortable silence. Al, packing their things, and Ed, changing into his daily clothes. It only took about 20 minutes before both were prepared for the day and out the door. (But not before Ed not-so-politely informed the staff that their heating system was, in fact, abysmal, and they should really replace it before someone got hypothermia.) It wasn’t long after that they waded through the ticket line and onto a train to East City.</p><p>Ed loved train rides. Despite his issues with sitting still unless working, there was still something uniquely relaxing about them. He supposed, maybe, it started with the fascination towards them he held as a child. Even back then, they had a magic of sorts. They were huge, even compared to adults, and they got to see so many places. The kinds of places he only got to hear about when wrapped in his late mother's arms late at night, her wool-soft voice bringing storybooks to life. He actually wanted to be a conductor for the longest time.. Up until his dad left, and then he decided to be an Alchemist instead. By the time Al lost his body, the dream was long past dead. But even now, as a military dog and no path but forward, he couldn't deny the wonder that they brought him.</p><p>He sipped his water, and felt some passengers nearby try to get a better peak of them. Their poorly concealed whispers traveled across the car, eyes locked on his brother. As much as he loved trains, he couldn't deny the twisted feeling that pooled in his gut when people stared like that. They glanced, and felt the need to judge his brother for a body he couldn't help, not even beginning to understand how hard that was for him. He knew that they were simply ignorant, but Al didn't need to justify his appearance to every curious person who asked. It made Ed angry, yes, but more than that, it made him sad. Al said it didn't bother him, but the reservation in his voice had always hinted otherwise. And the longer this particular group looked, the more Ed 's blood began to boil. Eventually he couldn't take it.</p><p>"There something on my face or some shit?" Ed closed his book with a snap and looked one of the other passengers, a middle aged woman, dead in the eyes. Hopefully if he called them out and pissed them off, they'd gossip about him instead. "Or are you just enjoying the view from our window?"</p><p>Her mouth contorted into a thin line, and her piercing blue eyes sharpened themselves like knives on a block. Ed suppressed a chill before mirroring his expression to hers. "Young man, you better watch how you speak to your elders. My husband and I are very prominent politicians, and we'll happily have a talk with the attendants about moving you off this train unless you apologize."</p><p>Ed has to resist breaking out into a grin for two reasons. One, because that was the dumbest shit he'd ever heard, and two, because of the pretty little pocket watch sitting in his right pocket. This lady was making it easy, way too easy. "Politicians huh? I've never seen your faces in the newspaper."</p><p>Her expression soured even more. "Well I wouldn't expect someone as disrespectful as you appear to be to have any knowledge of the government."</p><p>He stared for a second, then two, before breaking out into a laugh. Alphonse looked between the two of them, his expression seeming rather nervous. "Brother, I'm alright, really, let's just apologize and move on."</p><p>The woman seemed even angrier with Ed's reaction, and Ed almost found himself impressed that she managed to look more wrathful by the second. This time, however, her husband spoke. His anger was cooler, but not any less distant. "You'd be smart to listen to your brother. Even in a costume he's showing more class than you."</p><p>Alphonse visibly retreated inward, his gaze settling on the floor. Ed gritted his teeth, his eyes shifting from amusement to burning anger. "Why don't you say that again after you fight me?"</p><p>"Whoah, Whoah," A boy, probably a few years older than Ed, stepped from the car door, and between Ed and the duo. Ed hardly noticed, and continued to drill his eyes into the couple behind. "The weather's harsh and tensions are a little high, but why don't we all try to get along?" He flashed a smile, albeit a pained one, in Ed's direction. He was wearing what appeared to be a long, black hood that covered his face and body. Ed recognized the style of the coat, but he couldn't tell where he had seen it. Ed almost found him suspicious, but was too angry to really care at the moment.</p><p>Al nodded, relieved that someone had stepped in to break the tension. "We're sorry for bothering the two of you," Al looked to him. "Right, brother?"</p><p>Ed switched his gaze downward at that, still seeing red, and let out a small tsk. "They started it." He mumbled, trying to suppress the slight blush that grew on his cheeks. "If they wanna gossip so bad they should know what's coming to them." Al looked his way, but Ed refused to meet his eyes. The peacemaker boy simply smiled harder.</p><p>"Right," the boy said, clearly trying to placate the still seething Edward. "Well then, I'm Chris, and you seem to have met my grandparents," he paused, seeming to choose his next words with care. "The other cars are full and we still have a few hours, so let's drop this, yeah?"</p><p>"Fine." Ed spat. Al looked over to him, and for once, Ed couldn't quite tell what was painted on his face.</p><p>Everyone sat in silence for the next few hours. It was tenuous, like an argument could break at any second, and was only interrupted as Ed turned a page, or the woman coughed into a handkerchief. Ed tried to focus on his book- some storybook that delves into mythology around the Philosophers Stone, but even as his eyes scanned the page, his brain didn't. His annoyance was palpable as he ran through the argument mentally, thinking of things he'd wanted to say. He felt his frustration rise more as he tried, and failed, to ignore his racing mind in exchange for the reading. God dammit. Now he was too focused on focusing to actually focus. He let out a sigh and chose to sightsee instead.</p><p>As he stared out the window, he could tell they were slowly transitioning from countryside to something more urban. More people filled the streets, and fields became houses. He felt a fuzz taking over his thoughts as his mind wandered. He almost forgot where he was, up until the train slowed to a stop, and its breaks seemed to let out a breath.</p><p>He still felt irritable as he grabbed his suitcase. His dull nails imprinted into the flesh of his palm, loosening and tightening his grip as he attempted to ground himself. The colonel better have called him here for a good fucking reason.</p><p>He spared no glances to the boy and the couple before he headed out with Al. The station was both overwhelming and a breath of fresh air. The ambiance of the people around him helping to drown out his own residual feelings. And yet, they made it but a few meters into the station before Ed felt a nervous tap on his back, in an extremely sensitive place at that, where flesh met scar tissue. "What?" He practically hissed, turning to face the person behind him. It was the boy from earlier. His eyebrows knitted. "Ever heard of personal space?"</p><p>Chris threw up an uneasy smile. That seemed to be his thing. "Sorry, I tried to call you two, but you didn't answer...." He trailed off.</p><p>"Oh, sorry about that. Brother and I sometimes get caught up in our own thoughts," Alphonse let out a nervous laugh, clearly trying to answer for Ed before the situation escalated again. "What did you want to tell us?"</p><p>Chris froze like he didn't plan to actually get this far. "Oh- Uh.. You're the Fullmetal Alchemist right? My brother’s a huge fan. I'm sorry about my grandparents, they're just kinda like that, but I was wondering if I could get a signature?" His words were stumbled, but sincere.</p><p>"Oh, you must be talking about my brother," Alphonse gestured to Ed, "He's the one you should ask."</p><p>"Yeah, uh- That's who I meant." Chris readjusted the hood on his head, sneaking a look out of the corner of his eye.</p><p>A few emotions washed over Ed as the boy talked. Annoyance, sympathy, annoyance again, before his mind finally settled on ego. "Yeah sure," He grinned "You can have it." As stubborn has his anger was, nothing was a better pick-me-up than being properly recognized in public for once. Not to mention he couldn't help but to relate someone with a little brother.</p><p>The other boys' faces lit up. "Thanks!" Chris took a moment to fish for a pen and paper, before dropping it in the hands of the Alchemist. Ed signed it with vigor, grinned, and then was on his way.</p><p>---</p><p>The crowded halls of East City Command were a familiar pleasantry. Some workers waded through the building with purpose, others sat at their desk, engrossed in paper work. (And occasionally slacking off.) The heavy scent of cigarettes wafted through the hallway. Ed scrunched his nose in disgust, drawing closer to the door it emanated from. He was still getting used to finding his way around the building, but Jean’s cigarettes were always a dead giveaway for Mustang’s office.</p><p>He braced himself for a moment, before kicking open the door with a scowl. It indented and scuffed, before blasting open and revealing the spacious office. “Alright Colonel Bastard. You called, I got the memo, what is it?” Mustang sat tiredly at his office desk, the bags under his eyes seeming larger than usual, and his hair more disheveled.</p><p>“You’re very hard to track down, Fullmetal. We sent for you nearly 2 weeks ago.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now hurry up and tell me some leads so I can hurry up and leave.”</p><p>Ed caught a slight frown in Mustang’s eyes, but if he was offended by the harsh words, he didn’t show it past that. “I will, but we need you for something else first.”</p><p>“What is it?” Al asked, red eyes focused intently on the colonel. “Is something happening?”</p><p>“We’re tracking a gang within the city. Usually, we can take care of smaller stuff without extra help, but my team’s being stretched thin. We’re afraid there’s something big going on.”</p><p>“So you called us here to make up the manpower in physical power?” Al noted, and the Colonel was about to speak before being interrupted by Ed.</p><p>“Pshh, this’ll be easy then. Where are they? I’ve been dying to kick some ass all morning.” Ed grinned, pulling his arms into a stretch. He really was ready to blow off some steam, and fighting some criminals was a great way to do that.</p><p>“Not so fast Fullmetal. We need to be stealthy for this, so I’m gonna need you two to wait at the office,” He paused. “I know you two well enough to know you’re impulsive, but if I’m correct, these people are smarter than they let on. Rushing into things will just get you injured.”</p><p>“C’mon Colonel, don’t say you care about us or something.”</p><p>“Quite the contrary, I simply don’t want some of my heaviest hitters in a hospital bed and out of commission,” Mustang gave a knowing smile. The kind that said he was 100% planning something. The expression lasted for a moment or two, before dulling itself down into something more solemn. “But really, stay here. That's an order." He paused, turning his head in the direction of Havoc, who gave a nonchalant salute. “Catch them up to speed with the plans. I need the extra time to work, Breda could call in any minute now.”</p><p>“On it chief.” He grabbed some paperwork off his desk before leading them out the door, and into the hallway.</p><p>The room they arrived in was a new one for Ed and Al. It had a spacious wooden table that took up half the capacity, with a design both professional and expensive. East City may have been pretty back water, but the military still took special care to ensure it looked presentable. Havoc motioned them to sit before pulling a spare cig from his pocket. As he lit it, he began to speak.</p><p>“Ever heard of Clara Green?” He stared ahead at Ed and Al, gauging their expressions for a reaction. None came. “I guess not then,” He sighed. “It makes sense, she’s been in prison for the past 30 years, but recently she got out early on parole.”</p><p>“What was she in for?” Al asked.</p><p>“Killing a government agent. She should’ve gone longer, but she struck a deal and outed the rest of her team,” He looked solemn. “But we’re beginning to suspect that’s not the full story.</p><p>“So where is she now?” Ed butted in, impatience beginning to surge within him.</p><p>“We don’t know. She’s escaped government clutches and gone underground, but we’ve heard word that she’s recruiting ally’s.” He frowned. “She's planning something. We expect some kind of robbery thanks to Intel, but her history of assassination is worrying.”</p><p>“So when do we get to slip in and kick her ass?”</p><p>“Actually, we really do need you two to stay here and guard headquarters until told otherwise. The rest of the team’s going out on the field, but we don’t have enough manpower back here to survive an attack.”</p><p>“Bullshit,” Ed’s hand slammed the table. “There are like 15 other teams here,” Ed paused, thinking for a minute. Wait. A woman with a history of attacking government agents was in town, and the Colonel specifically called them here for a bullshit job he didn’t actually need them to do. Ed’s face soured a bit. Mustang didn’t actually want them for work, he wanted them so he could keep an eye on them. “What’s actually going on? Why does Mustang need to know where we are?”</p><p>Havoc seemed caught off guard for a minute, his expression changing from surprise to confusion to realization, before resetting back to relaxed. “You really are a clever kid Fullmetal, but I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.” He took a draw of his cigarette and exhaled roughly. “But I can say that for now, we need you here.”</p><p>Alphonse hummed, looking down at his hands as he thought. “Alright, we’ll wait here then,” Ed looked at him, his face painted in exasperation, as he opened his mouth to disagree. Al simply looked him back “Brother, we’re clearly over our heads in this. Let’s just wait here and see what the Colonel says,” He paused as he took a moment to choose his words. “We do want to know if something happens though. At least promise us that.”</p><p>Havoc nodded in agreement. “You got it chief.”</p><p>Only a moment of silence passed before Falman sprouted from the doorway. “Havoc! We have the signal from Breda to move, hurry up before the car leaves!”</p><p>“Ah shit.” Havoc took one last puff before stamping his last cigarette out, tossing the empty cartridge in the trash, and heading out. He spared a glance to the two brothers, to which Edward brooded, and Alphonse gave a small wave. “Good luck out there.” Alphonse said, his voice tentative with thought. Havoc nodded in response, and was on his way.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ed and Al attempt to find an escape.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mustang’s office felt lifeless without the people who filled it, and Ed almost found himself missing the annoying Colonel and his team. (Something he would never, ever, admit, thank you very much.) The hours passed in a dull drone, the clock on the wall practically mocking him as it ticked time away. Time they could be using to find leads, or read, or talk to people who could help them do those things more efficiently. And with his book now finished, entertainment was scarce. It wasn’t long before he resorted to braiding and rebraiding his hair in a desperate effort to keep himself busy. They still weren’t back, and he was really starting to get restless.</p><p>“The fuck’s taking them so long?” He mumbled, shaking his locks as his fingers slipped and the hairs became tangled. Great. Now he had to try to brush with his fingers. “This has got to be a new low for the ways the bastard can waste our time.”</p><p>Alphonse hummed. “It’s only been a few hours, brother. And he wouldn’t have told us to stay here if it wasn’t important.”</p><p>Ed rolled his eyes. “I doubt it. He probably didn’t want us to take his glory in battle so he could get promoted or something. Wouldn’t put it past him.”</p><p>Al paused, his shoulders and back hunching forward a bit. “I’m worried though, this is the first time he’s made us stay behind. What if there really is something big happening?”</p><p>Ed’s eyebrow furrowed as he took a moment to think. There was a chance Al was onto something, but Ed still didn’t appreciate being underestimated by his boss. Whatever it was going on, he had seen worse. He didn’t need to be babied. He was the youngest State Alchemist in history for fucks sake. His gaze turned to Alphonse, who’s hollow foot tapped against the floor’s tile, making a repetitive thunk. Ed knew that meant he was anxious. Great, now the asshole was making his brother worry too. Didn’t he realize Al was already stressed enough? Ed scrambled for words that would quell his brother’s uneasy mind. “Pshhh, I doubt it’s anything that serious. Maybe this is just some convoluted prank to punish us for taking two weeks to track down,” He repressed any of his own worries into a place deep within his subconscious. “Whatever it is, we can handle it.” He offered his fist towards his brother, who took the opportunity for a bump before smiling back. “Yeah, we can.”</p><p>The two of them sat in shared silence for a few minutes. But eventually, Ed’s restlessness came back with a vengeance. He needed to get up and do something, literally anything that could distract himself from his stewing thoughts. He found himself wandering the room, taking glances at the paperwork on peoples desks. To his annoyance, it was mostly boring files, or reports on whatever that person was working on. No hidden drama to entertain himself with here. Was it impolite? Probably, but they could’ve at least warned him to bring some extra books. He was a young mind. He needed <em> something </em> to keep himself amused. It was then that he spotted the face of somebody… Familiar. He stared for a moment, before realization dawned on him. He’d seen that person before. He snatched the paper.</p><p>Al looked up, noticing what he’d done. “Brother, stop snooping, it’s rude.”</p><p>“I rank higher than half the people on Mustang’s team anyways. I’m pretty sure looking at their files is one of my privileges. Besides, look.” He shoved the flyer in front of Al’s face. “It’s the guy from earlier.”</p><p>Sure enough, Chris’s face was plastered on, a big “WANTED” message beneath it. </p><p>Al’s eyes dimmed a bit. “He's a criminal? But he seemed so nice..” </p><p>“Yeah Al, that’s what they do,” Ed paused. Wait. This was the perfect excuse to leave. He tried to stop himself from grinning. Potentially dangerous criminal is in the city, and the only person with any leads were him and his brother? It’s not like he could send Mustang’s team after him. Morally, he HAD to disobey commands. What if someone was put in danger thanks to his inaction?<br/><br/>“Brother, I don’t like it when your face gets that look.” Al said, his voice full of distrust. “Whatever you’re planning you should drop.”<br/><br/></p><p>“But Al! It’s soooo boring here! We have nothing to do, and a criminal has practically fallen into our hands. We can catch him in no time, we’ll be back before Mustang even knows we’re gone.” </p><p>Al seemed to mull that over for a moment, his brain doing calculations. He sighed. “It is kind of boring just sitting here…”</p><p>“Great! Then it’s decided. You find an escape route so nobody will notice us leaving, and I’ll do some research for extra clues.” Ed had a feeling that going through the main doors would just get them caught. They had to make this quick, and they had to make this sneaky.</p><p>As Al searched the room for the best place to transmute an escape, Ed went over his memories where the boy was involved. First, he talked to his grandparents. That was a potential lead, but it did raise the question of how they didn’t realize he was a fugitive. Maybe they were involved? But why would they draw so much attention to themselves? Were they simply hot-headed? Why did Chris step in and show himself to somebody he realized was a State Alchemist? Why confess  his name? He clearly knew Ed’s identity. Ed could’ve arrested him on the spot. Ed decided to file that one for later, unable to come up with an explanation. The grandparents were still worth looking into.. If only he’d caught their names. To make it weirder, Chris asked for Ed’s signature and mentioned his little brother. Why would he draw attention again and give out more personal details? Was he trying to be noticed on purpose? Ed’s mind ran circles around the conversation, unable to come up with a rhyme or reason. Maybe the boy was just off his rocker… But he seemed rather stable. Something felt off. </p><p>Whatever, he should just stick to the files for now. He searched through the papers on each desk, but was unable to find anything extra, unless you counted copies of the flyer. Guess this was all they were getting. He looked down at the paper in his hands, scanning the page for any new information.</p><p>
  <b>Christopher Bowman, age 17.</b>
</p><p>
  <b>WANTED FOR UNDISCLOSED CRIMES. REPORT TO MILITARY PERSONNEL IF SEEN.</b>
</p><p>The image of him wasn't a mugshot, which meant he hadn’t been arrested in the past. It wasn’t uncommon for the Amestris government to not hand out more information about criminals than necessary, but the lack of intelligence seen in both the news and on the poster almost implied a cover-up. Edward put his hand in his hair, sorting out the still-messy braid as he debated to himself what exactly this meant. </p><p>“-ther. Brother!” Ed snapped out of his thoughts, and switched his focus to where Al stood. “Sorry for yelling, but I found a way out.” Ed grinned, stuffing the flyer into his jacket pocket. “Alright, where is it?” A rush of anticipation swelled in his chest. He was so ready to be out of this stuffy office. </p><p>“I looked on the building map near the door, and if we time it just right, we can say we’re using the bathroom and transmute an exit through our stalls and into the back. From there, we just have to scale the wall with our alchemy and make a break for it.”</p><p>It was quite a daring escape, Ed couldn’t lie, but it wasn't like risky plans had ever stopped him before. “My only worry is that someone might see the light when we transmute..” They needed another distraction, that much was clear, but Ed was unsure of what they could use. Not to mention the people here may not fall for a using-the-bathroom excuse, and just demand him to hold it. He stared at the floor for a minute, as if the creases between the tiles would somehow bring an answer. He supposed they could cross that bridge when and if they got to it. </p><p>“Are you sure there’s no other way Al?” Ed glanced up. As impulsive as he was, he wasn’t stupid. He’d rather not get caught before they started.</p><p>“There are soldiers outside the windows, and only you’re small enough to fit through the vents-” Ed’s eye twitched. “Oh, sorry.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I guess this is probably the best route then.”</p><p>“Did you figure out any information about Chris?”</p><p>“Other than what was on the paper, no. And I couldn't find any extra files. A few things seem out of place, though, like the fact the idiot would draw attention to himself despite knowing I was a military dog..” Ed trailed off, his mind still trying to come up with an explanation.</p><p>Al hesitated, seemingly trying to think of an answer himself. The sigh that came from within his body was a clear cue that he was just as unsure as Ed. “Maybe we can ask why when he find him?” </p><p>“Yeah, maybe,” Ed paused, gathering his resolve for an escape and taking a deep breath. If they wanted this to work, they needed to be quick on their feet. Mustang definitely told people to not let them out unless he says so. This was going to be tricky, but they were committed now. </p><p>“Alright, ready when you are Al.”</p><p>“I’m always ready, brother.”</p><p>---</p><p>They were, in fact, not ready. Nowhere near ready. Ed and Al slipped out of the room, attempting to be as nonchalant and quiet as possible. It was easier to not draw attention in the first place. Unfortunately for them, their appearances were anything but quiet, and their stealth plan lasted all of about 2 seconds. </p><p>One of the personnel stopped them in the hallway. She looked to be in her 20’s. “Sorry Fullmetal, I’m under direct orders to make sure you stay in that room until Colonel Mustang comes back.” </p><p>“I have to piss.” Edward replied. He hoped that would serve as enough of an excuse to satisfy the woman.</p><p>“Sorry, he specifically said you need an escort to use the bathroom. I can go get someone, but it’ll probabl-”</p><p>“Wait!” Ed interrupted. The last thing they needed was more people on alert. “Uh, actually, it’s more important than that, it’s an emergency.” </p><p>“An… Emergency?” She raised an eyebrow. “Why didn’t you ask sooner?” She was testing him, he could tell.</p><p>“Uh, well, you see…” Fuck fuck fuck. His brain was scrambling for answers. What would Teacher do? Probably use brute force, but that wasn’t applicable here. Mustang? Wait, he wasn’t about to treat Mustang like a role-model! He was the reason they were making excuses in the first place! Winry? Right! What was it that Winry said when she wanted to get out of class? On the flood? On the flounce? It hit him, the perfect excuse.</p><p>“Al is on the flow!” He blurted out. Did he know what that meant? Not really, but it worked for Winry. “He needs to go, like, right now.”</p><p>“He’s… On the flow?” She enunciated each word like she couldn’t quite understand.  There was a beat of silence before she began to suppress a laugh, biting her bottom lip as her eyebrows raised. </p><p>“Brother! I am not!” Alphonse’s voice cracked as he spoke.</p><p>“Yes. You. Are.” Ed gritted through his teeth. God dammit Al, they had to sell it for this to work. </p><p>“Fullmetal, excuse my bluntness, but do you know what that means?” She was trying to not laugh so much that it looked painful. Ed felt red hot heat rising to his cheeks.</p><p>“Yes!” He lied. “Now can we go??”</p><p>“Alright, alright. That was so funny that I’m gonna let you two off the hook for lying,” She wiped a tear from her eye. “But you better make it quick.”</p><p>The woman followed Ed as he stomped down the hall, his platform shoes almost making too much noise in his anger before he stopped himself. Right. Stealth. Ed forced himself to even his footsteps, Alphonse following in his wake. Al leaned  in for a whisper as he walked. “Brother, why would you say that??” If Alphonse had a body to blush with, he would be cherry red.</p><p>“We needed an excuse, and we got one.” Ed snapped back. He would definitely have to look up what that meant in a dictionary later. He had a sinking feeling that whatever he said was, somehow, not applicable to the situation.</p><p>But hey, at least it worked. </p><p>It wasn’t long before the 3 of them reached the doorway to the men’s bathroom. Ed walked straight in, not wanting to give the woman enough time to call someone else to watch. He heard a small “Sorry about my brother, ma’am.” before Al followed behind. </p><p>Each walked into a separate stall and took the time to lock it behind themselves. Ed took a settling breath, attempting to quench any nervousness before it even started. “Alright, Al. Let's go on three,” He whispered. He saw a thumbs up from above Al’s stall, and felt a tinge of jealousy that he was tall enough to do that. Ed sighed, pushing the thought to the back of his mind in attempts to deal with it's implications later. “Alright. One, two, three!”</p><p>Bright blue light filled the room as they transmuted an escape through the walls. Ed stared at the other wall in front of him. Oh. Right. The barricade. He brought his hands to the floor, using the material to transmute a bridge across. </p><p>Thankfully, nobody seemed to have noticed the commotion. He made another opening through the barricade, forming himself a proper platform, but not before transmuting the stall behind back into its original state. There would be marks, sure, but it may spare them a few extra minutes. He made himself glance below. It started as an effort to get a feel for how far down he needed to go, but really it just made a pit form in his stomach. God, he hated heights. He forced his eyes back up as he transmuted a slide, using just enough material that it landed its end on a building nearby. He looked to his side, where Alphonse had followed his lead. The cold winter air whipped Al's single tendril of hair around as he glanced back to Edward for the signal. His expression seemed to say the same thing Ed was thinking, 'no turning back now'. With no more time to waste, Ed sat down, and slid his way to the building below.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This chapter is definitely out sooner than I thought it would be. Like, a week sooner. Hyperfocus is a wild drug when used for productivity my friends. If you're here from the last one, you may want to go back and re-read some stuff, as I added some more details. Sorry about that. I'm kinda writing as I go. Anywho, stay safe, and have a lovely day.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Okay. Ed had been scared so, so many times in his life. The time he found his mother on the floor, which was a white hot, blinding kind of fear. It filled him with adrenaline, and gave him tunnel vision filled with nothing but raging, violent panic. The time Al lost his body, which was somber, and desperate. It was fleeting and it was suffering, his knees buckled, his heart ached, and before he knew it, he was in the worst pain of his life. But this? This shit was downright fucking terrifying. Racing down a slide, going god knows how fast into an unforgiving building below. It only lasted about 20 seconds, but the entire time Ed’s stomach was in his throat. He had to force himself to not scream. Logically, he knew it was safe. He had transmuted a material that was sturdy, but didn’t risk too much friction on his clothes. The last thing he needed was a scraped up body by the time they landed. He also took care to make sure it was angled so he wouldn’t die on impact, and yet, his emotions betrayed his mind in a fit of crushing anxiety.</p><p>They landed safely, and Ed had to take a moment to brace himself before standing up. He swallowed, trying his damnedest to keep his lunch down with what little energy he had in the moment.</p><p>“Brother, are you alright?” Al was on his feet, looking below with an expression that said ‘I-really-don’t-understand-whats-wrong-but-let-me-help-you.’ Ed was confused for a second, before realizing Al’s body literally didn’t have the chemicals to cause that kind of reaction. At the thought, Ed felt sick all over again.</p><p>“Y-Yeah, I’m fine. Just give me a sec,” He breathed a somber breath in and out, allowing the nerves to settle, before hoping to his feet. They couldn’t sit here wasting time, they needed to move if they didn’t want to be caught. “Alright, we should probably avoid scaling down another wall, or people are going to notice.” He turned around, transmuting what was the slide all the way back up to the barricade. “So I’m thinking we do this the old fashioned way.”</p><p>Al nodded, and they both headed for the rooftops door. It was locked, but it’s not like that stopped them from entering. Ed and Al made their way into the building, a hotel of some sorts. Across the hall stood an elevator. Bingo.</p><p>They slipped down the hallway and towards the elevator. The hotel was a little dodgy, Ed couldn't lie, but Truth knows this was better than another slide. Now for the annoying part. Ed pressed the button and waited for that familiar sound of moving parts that signified its arrival. A minute passed, and then two, and a sinking tension pooled in Ed's gut as he contemplated that they may have to resort to the stairs instead. He could practically feel how sore his leg port was going to be. He was only released from his dread as he heard metal creaking, and a familiar ding!</p><p>The doors scratched open, and Ed glanced inside. Between a missing button and the mysterious stain on its carpeted floor Ed was able to confirm that it was, in fact, dodgy as fuck. He motioned Al inside, who's steps seemed teeter-tattery and hesitant. Despite his reluctance, he didn't mention anything, and wasn't more than a step away from Ed as he headed in. Ed pressed the lobby button, and the doors squeaked shut as if to seal their fate.</p><p>Ed leaned against the wall, propping one foot up as he withdrew the flyer from his coats pocket. Al remained standing in the middle, and a silence washed over them both. Ed stared at the flyer like if he looked long enough, the lead they needed would magically appear. Okay, maybe rushing into this with minimal information was a bad idea, but so were most of his choices. This one hardly made a dent in his list of potentially-or-actually-very-shitty-decisions. They were neck deep now, and Ed wasn't the type to give up before seeing anything through to the end.</p><p>"So, brother... Do you actually have any leads, or was this just a roundabout way of getting some fresh air?" Al was the first to break the silence. Ed couldn't help the irritation that rose within him. If he was being honest, his brother wasn't exactly wrong. But another part of him was seriously concerned with the prospect of letting a wanted criminal- and an annoying one at that- wander the streets of East City without reparation from <em> someone </em>.</p><p>"I don't know, Al, do you have any idea where he may have gone?" His words were harsher than he intended, and Al shrunk back at his tone. Fuck. Now he was not only clueless, but also an asshole. His gaze shifted upwards as his arms crossed, trying to find the words to apologize.</p><p>Al found a response before he did. "Maybe we should retrace what happened again," his voice was tentative. "Just in case we missed something."</p><p>It wasn't a bad start. Even if Ed had tried it before and was unsuccessful, he still held hope that Al had noticed something he hadn't.</p><p>"Right, so it all started when the asshat granny and I got into an argument-"</p><p>"Yeah, and you tried to fight an old man, so Chris stepped in," Alphonse paused like he was about to say something. He stopped, however, biting his metaphorical tounge and leaving his thoughts to dissipate into air around them. Ed gave him a look.</p><p>"What is it? Did you figure something out?"</p><p>Alphonse shook his head. "It's nothing," Ed raised his eyebrow, but the moment fleeted as Al continued his recollection. "After that, we sat in silence the rest of the ride."</p><p>"And then he asked for my signature-"</p><p>"-and we went our separate ways." Al finished.</p><p>"Did you see which way he went?" Ed asked, and Al shook his head.</p><p>"No. Did you?"</p><p>"Nope."</p><p>They both stared to the floor for a moment, entranced in thought.</p><p>"I'm surprised we didn't find him suspicious earlier, with that hood covering him and all." Alphonse noted. "He kept glancing around like he was expecting to be arrested or something."</p><p>Ed nodded. "Yeah, I thought it was weird too." He looked to the paper once again, before his eyes settled on his own bright red trench coat. "Wait, Alphonse, what you just said! That's it!"</p><p>Al stared back. "Well yeah, brother, it makes sense that he was expecting to be arrested."</p><p>"No, the part about the hood! I've seen it before," He paused with a grin. "And I know just where to find it." As if on cue, the elevator came to a pained stop. It's doors opened to reveal a vast lobby. Ed treaded out, his brother just behind him. Looks like they were going shopping.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This one's a little shorter, but I hope you guys enjoy. This story is probably going to be a little bit of a slowburn on the angst, but it's coming up within a few chapters. I just need some time for build up. Anywho, have a nice Tuesday, and I'll see you in a few days.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ed and Al look for leads.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>The walk to the shopping district was longer than Ed expected. Well, longer was a generous word. They had been running in circles trying to find the place ever since they’d left the hotel.</p><p>“Let’s just ask someone for directions.” Alphonse’s voice was steeped in poorly-hidden irritation. “We’ve only been to East City a few times, we’re not going to find it on our own.”</p><p>“I swear Al, I remember how to get there, just give me a sec.” Ed furrowed his eyebrows harder, speeding his steps as they rounded a corner into a dark alley. Shit. Definitely not what they were looking for.</p><p>“You were saying?”</p><p>Edward hummed. “There are plenty of cars in the area, maybe if we used alchemy to jump one…”</p><p>“Brother, we can’t steal a car, that’s illegal. Besides, neither of us know how to drive.”</p><p>“We could figure it out! There are lot’s of stupid people who do it just fine!”</p><p>“That’s because they go through training.”</p><p>“Whatever.” He turned around, starting his pace back into the avenue. His platforms clicked with anger against the wet sidewalk. It was starting to get late, and an uneasy chill filled the sun-set stained streets. His ports ached against the unforgiving weather, and his trench-coat was not quite enough to stop the evenings sting from seeping through. He tilted his head down, watching the pavement go by as he strolled. Great, now he was lost and cold. He was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice another person on the sidewalk, a middle-aged man, until he’d almost run into him.</p><p>“Watch where you’re going asshole.” He muttered, pushing the man away with his body as he kept moving forward.</p><p>“Brother! Don’t be rude!” Alphonse’s voice nagged behind him. Alphonse looked to the man. “Sorry about him,” He paused, glaring holes through the back of Ed’s head. “He’s being extra-stubborn today.”</p><p>“Am not-!” Ed turned around before being interrupted by Alphonse.</p><p>“We’re lost. Do you know which way the shopping district is?”</p><p>“Um,” The man seemed a little shocked, but that was how most people acted when a suit of armor talked to them. “Head down this street and then turn right in two blocks. Keep walking, and you’ll get there.”</p><p>“Told you we were close…” Ed muttered. Alphonse ignored his brother and smiled at the man with his eyes. It was strained, though, and obviously out of courtesy. “Thank you. Have a lovely night.”</p><p>---</p><p>It was another 10 minutes of walking before they reached the district. By then, it had dropped a few more degrees, and the moon was beginning to peek through the clouds above them. The lamps lit a dull glow around the street, and people were beginning to file out as shops began to close. Hopefully, they weren’t here too late.</p><p>“So.. You still haven’t told me why we’re here. I’m really starting to suspect you just felt like going on a walk, brother.”</p><p>Ed grinned. “We’re going shopping.”</p><p>“Ed, we spent most of our money on the train tickets, and I don’t think there’s a bank nearby-”</p><p>“Not like that, Al. I recognized his coat. I’m pretty sure it’s from the same shop I got mine.”</p><p>Alphonse paused, confusion plastered between the details of his voice.“How do you remember that but not how to get to the store?”</p><p>“I don’t know Al! My brain just has priorities like that. What matters is we have a lead.”</p><p>Alphonse hummed, following his brother as they came to a stop. The storefront was shaggy, but homey, and had a large sign advertising custom tailoring. Ed was hit by a small wave of nostalgia as he took a step inside. For a moment, he was brought back to the year before, when he had just passed the state exam.</p><p>
  <em>“Is this some weird attempted kidnapping?” He asked, and Mustang just told him to keep his eyes covered. Apparently this was a “surprise” and to peak would “ruin” it. Breda left out a hardy laugh besides him. “No, chief. You’ll see.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He stepped inside, slipping the blindfold off his face as he glanced around. A few coats and hood hung on display, each having a unique design and signature patch that displayed the company name. “Why did you take me to a tailor’s shop?” He muttered.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Well, we were going to get something without you, but your measurements seem very… Unique for a boy your age.” Mustang smiled, his face innocent like he <strong>didn’t</strong> mean what he just implied. “And we figured it was better to let you pick anyways.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ed let out a hum, glancing around the shop. His eyebrows raised as he turned to face Mustang's team. Knowing Mustang, this was probably part of some weird plot. There was no other logical explanation. “Yeah, but why take me here? I can buy clothes myself, y’know.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Fullmetal, are you asking why people buy gifts? I’m surprised you don’t know.” Hawkeye’s tone was as stiff and deadpan as her posture.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Yeah. We took you here to celebrate you passing. Becoming a state alchemist is a big deal, chief.” Breda’s eyebrows drew together.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Ed stared for a moment before crossing his arms and letting out a small. “Tsk.” A blush threatened to creep into his features, and his brain tried to rationalize their words. Why were they acting so sentimental? This was stupid. Ed glanced up to try to meet their eyes, before shrinking under their gazes once more. Right. He was a state alchemist now. An official dog of the military. Ed wanted to feel proud of himself, but he just couldn’t. It was his fault he had to do this, and he couldn’t allow himself any rest, or celebration for that matter, until Al’s body was back. But another part of him, a small, nagging part, couldn’t help but to feel.. Thankful, and relieved. Because even if this was dumb and irrational, it made him feel, even if it was for a fleeting moment, like he was important. Like somebody cared about him, and wanted to see him happy. Even if that somebody was his asshole boss and his team who Ed barely knew. <br/></em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Alright, alright. Whatever,” He paused, staring at the fabrics in an effort to distract himself. He certainly did not feel like opening that emotional can of worms right now, or pretty much ever. His eye caught something bright red. The coat had an air of fight to it, the kind that really got his blood pumping. He flashed a grin over his shoulder towards Mustang. “This does mean I get to pick though, right?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Mustang laughed. “Whatever you want, Fullmetal.”</em>
</p><p>The memory ended when a bell rang out above them. Upon entering, they were greeted by countless fabrics that sat neatly on the shelves. Most of the place was wooden, and an outdated-looking (And honestly, barely functional) fireplace burned towards the back of the room. A piece of cloth sat dangerously close to its unforgiving flames. The place was a fire hazard waiting to happen, but Ed was a state alchemist, not a OSHA worker, so he supposed it was none of his business. A young woman stood behind the counter, seeming to be about 20. If her expression was anything to go by, she was about 2 minutes from falling asleep on the job. Her night-black hair fell straight to her neck. Despite her exhaustion, not a single hair was frizzed or out of place. It was almost impressive.</p><p>“Hi, I’m Lyra. We’re supposed to be closing in 4 minutes, but what can I get for you-” She paused before staring at the two of them, her mouth a little agape. “Oh my god, you’re the Fullmetal Alchemist-”</p><p>“Hi, yeah, that’s me,” Ed brushed her off, not really finding it in himself to placate people with introductions. “We’re here on.. Military business,” He paused. It wasn’t wrong, and if he used his status, she was probably more likely to do what he wanted. “We need you to answer some questions.”</p><p>Any drowsiness she held before began to bleed out as her face went pale. “Listen, I just work here, and it’s really cold out, so if you’re here about-”</p><p>“I don’t care about the fucking fireplace. I need you to tell me if you’ve seen this man.” He pulled the crumpled flyer from his pocket, slamming it on the desk where she worked. His golden eyes shifted to meet her violet ones as she stared down.</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve seen him. We actually went to the same school, though he was a few grades below me...” She seemed tentative. “What’d he do?”</p><p>“Can’t say.” Ed shrugged.</p><p>“Do you know where he might be?” Alphonse spoke, his voice hopeful.</p><p>“You actually just missed him. He left about 30 minutes ago.”</p><p>“Great,” Ed scoffed. He was starting to feel like maybe they really should have asked for directions sooner. He looked up to the woman, setting his hands on the desk as he leaned over. “What’d he buy?” She was about to speak before he interrupted her. “And don’t give me any of that customer privacy bullshit.”</p><p>“Wasn’t going to,” She scoffed back. “He bought a suit. Said something about it being a gift, and it was definitely too small for him.”</p><p>“He did mention a younger sibling..” Alphonse noted.</p><p>Ed perked up. “Lyra, do you know anything about his little brother?”</p><p>Lyra hummed. “Nope. Didn’t know he had one.”</p><p>Well shit. Looks like this really was going to be more difficult than Ed expected. So they had a fugitive coming to a store and buying a suit for his younger brother. But why would he risk being out in the open for a suit of all things? It had to be some sort of pressing, impulsive decision. “Are there any parties tonight?”</p><p>She ran a hand through her hair in thought. There was a moment of silence before she paused, remembrance dawning on her face. “Oh, I think I heard something about a celebration in the south area. Some rich people are having a seasonal get-together or something.”</p><p>Ed hummed. A house party, huh? It was probably their best lead, assuming that the suit was a last minute purchase for an event. But weren’t rich people usually weird about who attended that stuff? If Chris and Lyra really went to the same school, Ed doubted Chris’s family ranked anything higher than middle class. And there was no way his grandparents were the politicians they said they were, assuming they were blood-related at all. Respected political figures don’t want to be seen with fugitives, that’s just a fact. The more Ed thought about it, the more his head began to hurt. Nothing about this situation made sense.</p><p>Ed knew he had enough notoriety to get into the party if he needed to, that wasn’t an issue, but how do they know for sure if this was even a proper lead? He glanced to Alphonse, who seemed to be thinking the same thing.</p><p>“Well, it’s probably worth a shot..” Alphonse turned to face Ed. “I’d feel bad if we went back to the Colonel empty handed.”</p><p>“We won’t,” Ed knew he wouldn’t live this down if they didn’t find something to justify disobeying orders. “We’re gonna find Chris and kick his ass.” He flashed a grin in Al’s direction, who nodded in return.</p><p>“Well, if you two are done interrogating me, I need to close up shop.” She yawned, stretching her hands over her head.</p><p>“Thank you,” Alphonse said. “This was a big help.”</p><p>Lyra crossed her arms, rolling her eyes as her cheeks reddened. “You’re welcome. Now get out.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ed and Al go to a party, and get a good lead in the process.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It was only after they were outside and almost a block down the road that they realized that they still didn’t know where the hell they were going. Having learned their lesson from last time, they resorted to asking one of the few people still out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Party down south…” The man thought for a moment. “Oh, you probably mean the Hutchinson’s. They throw an extravaganza every year, though this seems a little early..”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Awesome,” Ed deadpanned, not really caring for details. “So where do they live?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think near… Broad Valley- No, Budluc Valley. It’s a real big house, I doubt you’ll miss it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was, in fact, a real big house. A fucking huge one, in fact, even in comparison to the mansions that surrounded it. It was a vast contrast against the monotonous apartments that East City was known for. Yeah, this was definitely a wealthy district. People filed into the house, each dressed in their best garments. Pearls and silks imported from Xing were abundant, and the clothes on each person were clearly picked to flaunt their status. It was all so abhorrently stuffy and posh that it made Ed sick to his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"I think we should ask around outside before anything." Alphonse said. Ed was inclined to agree. He didn't want to interact more than necessary, and to head inside would be to commit to a night full of power-hungry people trying to gain his favor. As handy as it was, sometimes he really hated being an important figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They asked every person outside for leads, each giving similar responses. Nobody had even heard of- much less seen- Chris or his brother. Just as they were about to succumb to the fate of heading inside, a woman stepped out. Her lips were rather thin, and they pressed together, giving her a permanent expression like she had just eaten something sour. Every line and wrinkle were caked in makeup. She was probably middle aged, if Ed had to guess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Hi, sorry for bothering you, but we're looking for someone." Alphonse’s tone was tentative. The woman's upper lip raised at the sight of him. She took in both his and Ed's under-dressed appearances, her expression reading one thing, disapproval. Al seemed unaffected by her gaze, but Ed felt an itch to punch the stick straight out of the women's ass.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Who?" She asked, blowing cigarette smoke in Ed's face. He scrunched his nose in disgust. It was clearly intentional, as if to put him in place, and Ed doubted she knew who he was because of it. As tempted as he was to slap the damn thing out of her hand, he didn't have the energy to pick every small battle at the moment, electing instead to gather Intel. Fuck, Mustang really might be rubbing off on him. "This guy," He raised the flyer. "Or someone who looks like him."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Her eyes widened with realization, before a small smile peaked onto her lips. The expression was gone as soon as it came. "Oh, so you're bounty hunters." Her arms crossed over her chest, and she leaned into a relaxed stance with disinterest. "You're a little short to be fighting crime."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Okay, that’s it."Who are you calling so small an ant would mistake him for a family member?!" A few peoples eyes wandered in their direction as he yelled. The woman's eyes widened before an assumed chuckle escaped her lips. "You're fighty," Her voice was scratchy, but still feminine. "I like you."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eye twitched. He breathed out a sigh, attempting to gain his composure. He was not successful. “So have you seen him or not?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’s it matter to you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just answer the goddamn question.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” She took a long drawl in. “I have.” A little bit of ash fell off the cigarette as she spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Wait, really?” Alphonse turned to her. “Do you know where he could be?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sure do.” She paused with a smile, inhaling once more. “I’ll even take you there.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ed grinned. “Great-” Al interrupted the agreement and pulled him aside, facing away from the woman. He lowered his voice so she couldn’t overhear. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Brother, I don’t think we should run off with the first person who offers. We don’t know, it could be dangerous.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ed paused, his eyebrows knitted. “Yeah, maybe, but it’s not like we have any other leads.” Al still didn’t look convinced. Ed let out a huff. It was possible they were overthinking this, but it was still better to be on guard. He glanced to the woman, who stood with total apathy behind Al’s body. He looked her up and down. She definitely didn’t seem threatening. “Besides, I think we could take her in a fight if push comes to shove.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Al stewed in his thoughts for a moment before looking up. “Alright, I trust you brother.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Quit it with the chit-chat, I’m a busy woman. Are you coming or not?” The lady said. Her voice had a snap to it that wasn’t present before, almost like she was on-edge or waiting for something. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine. But we wanna know where we’re going.” Al spoke before Ed could. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She rolled her eyes. “Alright. I’ll explain on the way, it’s better not to talk too much with so many ears around.” She motioned to the party guests around her, many of which were either drunk or had no interest in their conversation. It wasn’t a bad point, though. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fine,” Ed scoffed, and she led them away from the house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They walked in silence for about 10 minutes, the only noise around being their footsteps and the occasional passing cars. The only light was the dull glow of the street lamps, which began to fade as they reached the edges of the city. It all felt serene and calm on the surface, but Ed couldn’t shake the growing feeling that something was very, very wrong. “You’re just tired and paranoid,” He said to himself. “Stop being such a baby.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swallowed his anxiety with a punch. “So are you going to tell us where the hell we’re going or not?” He meant for his words to be aggressive, but they came out more nervous than anything. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re almost there, hush up.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t tell me to hush up! You’re the one who said you’d explain!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shhh!” They came to a stop in front of a warehouse. It was big, and as Ed glanced around, he realized how absolutely deserted it was. He swallowed, glancing to Alphonse, who seemed to be on edge as well. Ed took a second to clench his fist to check his automail and roll his shoulders back. They had to be prepared for a fight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he had time to fully warm up, the woman knocked on the door. It creaked open, revealing a dark space within. The woman walked forward, head straight and shoulders back, but Ed could see the small shake in her legs as she strided. He furrowed his eyebrows before going after her, trying to keep his face as straight as possible. Al clunked behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The lights came on. “Ow, what the fuck?!” Ed had to cover his eyes, squinting as he tried to make out a figure who sat on a crate nearby. He tried to get a look at them, but the glare just got brighter, and he couldn’t make out much in the seconds it took him to adjust.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I brought the alchemist and his armored pal.” The woman motioned at the two of them with her thumb. Ed glanced up in surprise. She knew who he was?? “You know the deal, pay up.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yes, yes Amelia. You will get your reward soon enough.” She looked to the two of them. “How wonderful for you to join us. You’re right on time.”</span>
  <span></span><br/>

  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You.. knew we were coming?” Al said. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have eyes and ears all over this city,” She smirked, staring at the two of them. Ed had to steel himself under her gaze, he leered at her with furrowed eyebrows, challenging her with his eyes. Her smile remained calculated and insincere. “Chris was right, though, the two of you are very bright. You tracked us down within a few hours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So she was with Chris. Ed clapped his hands together, transforming his automail into a sharp blade as he stepped forward. Better to be armed than not. He pointed it in her direction. Al raised his fists beside him, as if to show they were both prepared to fight. “I don’t know who the hell you are or what you’re playing at, and honestly I don’t give a shit. I’m here for Chris.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She paused, and everything was quiet for a minute. And then she laughed. It was pitchy, but composed, and was strained in a way that sent chills up his spine. It stopped as suddenly as it started, and she stared at him. “You don’t quite understand, do you child? You’re not here for Chris,” She grinned. Ed heard a rattle and a click behind him. He turned around in a flash, and his eyes met the end of a gun’s barrel. “We’re here for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh boy, here we go. From now on, there's probably going to be some blood and potentially triggering stuff. I'll add warnings in the starting notes &amp; tags, but this is a quick warning before we get into it. Stay safe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Now at the warehouse with no allys but each other, the Elrics take on their pursuers. But what do they do when things go wrong?</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW Blood, talk about death, guns</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Ed! Duck!" A lot of things happened in a few seconds. First, Ed got down as Al threw himself in front of his brother, maneuvering his body to protect him from any fire. The man (who Ed now recognized as being Chris) Was spooked by the sudden movement, and shot twice at Al. From all directions, more people rushed into the fight. Bullets ricocheted off Al's armor, one piercing a nearby crate, where something glass shattered inside. Everyone took their attention away to look at the crate, and in that time, Ed clapped his hands and transmuted a stone box around Al and himself, trapping them inside the darkness.</p><p>He took a deep breath, adrenaline coursing through his blood, and leaving a sharp ring in his ears. It wasn't a perfect solution, but there were simply too many people to fight off before they were prepared. "Brother," Al's voice called from the darkness. "I think this is bad."</p><p>Yeah. They were totally outnumbered. Even he, who always bit off more than he could chew, could tell that. For now it was a stalemate, but there was risk of another alchemist in the woman's group. All it would take was some basic deconstruction, and the only thing keeping them from potential death would crumble. Ah. So this was going to be one of those nights. "Just stay close to me, Al." He muttered. The underlying tone of "I need to be able to protect you if things go wrong" In his words was left unsaid, but as Ed heard Al's clunks draw closer, he was sure his brother got the message.</p><p>"Do you have any chalk?" Al asked. Ed fished around in his pocket before coming upon something rough and dusty. "Yeah, but it's not much." Unfortunately, (or maybe quite the opposite, considering how much it <em>hurt</em>), Al hadn't seen what he saw in The Gate, and still needed to draw transmutation circles. He handed the chalk to Al, fumbling in the darkness as his flesh met his brothers hardened gloves. Al ducked down and began to sketch something.</p><p>Ed heard a knock from a wall nearby. He jumped a bit, unable to stop the sharp spike in anxiety that proceeded the sound.</p><p>"Fullmetal~" The woman practically sang. "We have you and your brother surrounded, now come out and talk before you make me angry."</p><p>"Fuck off you crazy hag! You tried to kill me and <em>now</em> you want to talk?!"</p><p>"It wasn't personal, you drew your weapon first," She said. "And we won't have to kill you if you cooperate."</p><p>No way in hell was he talking to these bastards. They had to find a way out, and quick. He didn't exactly feel like testing how long he could last in an airtight room today. "Al," He whispered. "I'm going to lower this wall, do something to take out the team on your side, and I'll take out the one on mine."</p><p>"Alright." Al said. The scratching on the floor continued for a moment before stopping. Ed trusted Al to be able to draw properly even in darkness, but he couldn't help the nagging fear of what would happen if that wasn't the case. He shook his head. Al was just as capable- maybe even more so at times- as him. If anyone could draw a complex transmutation without any light, it was his younger brother.</p><p>He took a deep breath. His fingers tingled in anticipation, but it was better to attack first. "3, 2, 1, go!" He clapped his hands. He drew the barrier down and in, shifting the edges into pillars he used it to attack anyone unlucky enough to be nearby. One hit a man in the chest and knocked the wind out of him. Another crumpled a woman to her knees as rock collided with her arm, and she was forced to clench her wrist in pain. On the other side, Al transmuted a ditch, crumbling the ground below his attackers, and dropping them into the 6ft pit. Only a hearty few were able to stand their ground. The earth retreated from where the hole was formed, and into a wall, creating a blockade near the entrance they came in from. Perfect. That meant no more back up for the woman.</p><p>Ed turned his attention to the front. The sounds of metal scraping and people hitting the ground were the only ways to check what happened behind him. A few people pursued Ed, guns drawn. He clapped his hands, sending more slabs in their direction. Some shots were fired, but he dodged what he could, and blocked the rest with stone.</p><p>He grinned. This woman had to be stupid to attack them, Al was one of the best Alchemists in the country, probably the world, and Ed was legally a human weapon. Adrenaline coursed through his body as he moved. The push and pull of a good fight was always a comfort of sorts, and besides, he'd been waiting to knock some heads all day. A sharp sting ran into his leg, but he was so focused on taking down the people in front of him he barely noticed. It was only when he heard Al's voice cry for him that he looked down and saw what his brother was screaming about. Blood. Why was there blood? He turned around to face Al, but his eyes caught Chris's torso peaking over the pit instead. His gun was drawn and pointed. Oh. He had been shot.</p><p>And just like that, the pain hit him like a freight train. He squinted his eyes closed, gritted his teeth, and suppressed a scream. He tried to shift his weight to his automail in an effort to stay standing, but all it did was make his left leg lock up. <em>"Stupid,"</em> Ed thought to himself. <em>"You left yourself open, dumbass. Al was probably too distracted to warn you." </em></p><p>In the time he tried to adjust and his brother stood frozen in fear, another gunshot fired from Chris's gun, this time grazing Ed's auto-mail instead. Lucky him. Al ran to kick Chris back into the hole he came from, and Ed turned around to go back to fighting, but he realized upon looking that some of the combatants had already regained their strength.</p><p>Ed wasn't anything but a burden here if he wasn't able to fight, he knew that. Get disabled in battle, and you're either potential collateral damage or an easy target. It was a harsh reality, but it was true. He couldn't left that happen. He kept attacking, but the blood flowing into crimson puddles on the ground made him lightheaded, throwing his aim off in the process. He tried to convince himself it was fine, and he could keep going no problem, but as he bled more, he realized how serious it just might be. He needed to get some pressure on his wound. But in the time it would take to plug it, he got the feeling the men will have already regrouped. He furrowed his eyebrows in pain and frustration. It was an impossible situation, but nothing pissed him off more than giving up, so he wasn't about to lose. Al moved towards him.</p><p>"Focus on them!" Ed motioned towards some of the few still standing on Alphonse's side.</p><p>"But-" Al started.</p><p>"I can handle myself, dammit!" Al winced, and Ed flashed an uneasy smile in his brothers direction, as if to say 'I'll be fine, I swear.' Alphonse stared for a moment before nodding, turning to finish what he'd started. Ed sighed in relief.</p><p>"You're going to bleed out if you keep fighting like that." The woman was back, now standing about 15 feet away from him. When did she get this close? "It obviously hit an artery, give it 10 minutes, and you'll be on deaths door."</p><p>"Oh, so now you're worried for my safety." He gritted through his teeth. The woman frowned.</p><p>"I told you, child, we have no intention of harming you if you cooperate. Come quietly, and we'll even get you some treatment for that leg injury." She paused before smiling. "Although, technically, we only need <em>one</em> of you. If you'd rather die and sacrifice your brother in your stead, that will work as well."</p><p>"Over my dead body," He gritted out. "And. Stop. Calling. Me. Child." He clapped his hands before hitting the ground. His vision became splotchy with pain, and the blood from the floor soaked his other pant leg, but he went through with the transmutation anyways. The woman let out a shrill scream as he encased her body in stone, leaving only her torso and her arms exposed. He limped forward, drawing his still-armed automail to her neck. He had no intention of actually harming her, much as he may have wanted to, but her men didn't know that. He looked towards them. "You're all going to put your guns down, and step away." He glared straight through her team. They seemed about as battered as he was, and that meant the fighting ground was even. Each complied with his demands.</p><p>"You wouldn't." The woman smiled, it was sweet in a way that made his stomach turn. Or that could be the blood loss. He wasn't sure. "I've heard you're a pacifist, for a State Alchemist. Not a single person you've fought has had anything more than mild injuries."</p><p>She'd called his bluff, but he couldn't back out now. He glared at her. "Do you really want to test that?"</p><p>"Brother!" Al had finished off his side, and was finally able to take in the extent of Ed's damage for more than a fleeting moment. He rushed forward, hallow footsteps clanking as he ran. His soulfire eyes widened. "There's so much blood." His voice was barely audible, and the worry that came through it made Ed worry too.</p><p>"Al, I'm fine." He lied. It was getting hard to talk. His auto-mail shook as he tried to keep himself supported, and he let out a low groan as he lost balance for a moment. Thankfully, Al caught him before he fell over. He might have been embarrassed if he didn't feel like he was about to pass out.</p><p>He was close enough that he could still threaten the woman, and he kept his blade friendly with her neck. He glared at the men around them, as if to dare them to say or do anything. Al yanked his read coat from his body and pulled his pant's leg up. He tied Ed's coat around the wound, constricting his leg, and staining the jacket an even darker shade of red. Ed hissed in pain. "Sorry, but we have to stop the bleeding." Al's voice was soaked in worry, even on the verge of blacking out, Ed could tell that. His leg began to go numb from the wound down. A strange, fuzzy feeling overtook it, like it had fallen asleep.</p><p>"You need to lay down, brother, I can handle them."</p><p>"But-"</p><p>"Now!" Al's voice was stern, and didn't leave room for any argument. Ed pressed his lips together. As much as he didn't want to make his brother have to deal with this, he really was starting to feel some of the worse effects of blood loss. He lowered himself down with a shake, bracing his back against a nearby crate.</p><p>Al turned to face the group. "You heard my brother," Al's tone was unusually dark, but Ed was able to make out the shake in his words. Whether it was from anger or fear, Ed wasn't sure. "No moving, because we're serious."</p><p>Everything was silent, and then the woman shifted her arms, and smiled. "I'm sure you are." She clapped, and a flash filled the room. "<em>A transmutation?"</em> Ed's mind filled with panic. <em>"But how??"</em> </p><p>Ed didn't have time to find the answer to his question before the woman broke free. It was only then that he noticed something on her hand. Symbols had been etched in, presumably by her own fake, sharp nails. She caught him staring and smiled. "I'm somewhat of an alchemist too, you know, although I only know the basics." Fear pooled in his gut. Most alchemists would have used their abilities before anything else. He swallowed. His assumption about her lack of skills was about to get them killed. He realized how cruel this was. He was on the verge of passing out, maybe even death, fighting against someone who wanted him and his brother for a reason he didn't even know, and now they lost the only edge they had.</p><p>Al attempted to grab her, but in the commotion, her followers had armed themselves once more. One fired for head shot, knocking Al's helmet off, but he ignored it in favor of attacking the woman. He threw a kick to her face, but she dodged at the last second. Her eyes widened. She had caught a glance inside Alphonse. "You're hallow-?" Al used her hesitation to deck her in the face. She flew to the ground, hitting the floor with a satisfying thud.</p><p>"Yeah. What about it?" He picked his helmet up and put it back on. Her nose began to bleed. She wiped it with disgust, unable to come up with an answer to his question, but Ed could see the gears turning in her head. That couldn't be good. She had still been playful before, but now, her patience seemed to be worn thin.</p><p>She looked at someone out of the corner of her eye and gave a thumbs up. The woman nodded back, before screaming "NOW!" Ed only had a minute to debate the meaning behind that before an entirely new group of people jumped down from the platforms above them. Shit. He hadn't thought to attack up there. He should've checked for extra back-up.</p><p>Al readied his body for a fight, but a mass of assailants jumped onto him, pinning him to the ground in the process. The woman tsked as she stood up. "I really was hoping we could do this the easy way, without extras, but it seems you two just can't be reasoned with," The smile returned back onto her face, even more forced than before. "So I'm going to wear you thin until you can't fight anymore."</p><p>Ed glanced over to Al, who's armor screeched against the ground as he tried to free himself. Ed knew he should be panicking, but thinking was just becoming so hard. He tried to pull his thoughts into focus, come up with a plan, but every nerve in his body just protested with anger. That's when Ed noticed just how shallow his own breathing was becoming. Fuck. Next time Colonel Bastard gave him an easy day at the office, he just may listen and stay put. </p><p>He glanced over to Al, his eyesight starting to darken and swim. He couldn't make out much in the swamp that was his consciousness, but he knew he had to get his brother out of here, no matter what it took. So he stood up. It was slow, and painful, but he stood. His breath hitched, and he leaned against the crate like it was a lifeline. Which it was, if he was being honest.</p><p>The woman laughed as he tried, and then her eyebrows furrowed when he didn't stop. "Hey, you're going to die on us if you don't quit it." Her voice was less composed. "What will your brother do when he's all alone, hm? You two seem awfully close."</p><p>Ed clenched his teeth. "Stop talking like you know us."</p><p>She smiled, about to speak before he interrupted. He knew he was going to pass out soon, but he didn't know how or what Alphonse would do to get out of here when he did. <em>If</em> he would get out of here, so Ed said the only thing he could think of. "And take me." He steeled himself under her gaze. "I won't put up a fight, you can even take my automail to ensure that, but-" He cut off, the air in his lungs deflating. His voice grew more shallow. It was so hard to say, so hard to give up his pride like this, but even he knew he was at his limit right now. His brothers safety always came first. "But don't hurt him, <em>please</em>, just leave Alphonse alone."</p><p>"Brother! Stop, I can-" Alphonse had started, but the woman cut him off with a laugh.</p><p>"You're not in a place to be bargaining, child. The exchange offers long passed."</p><p>He furrowed his eyebrows at the use of 'child'. "Well, then I tried to reason with you too." He clapped his hands together. The energy sent shock waves through his body, and he thought he may faint then, but he pressed on. His hands hit the floor below him, and a platform began growing just under Alphonse's body. The people who had pinned him were forced off, some trying to keep their grip, but each was flung towards the ground eventually. It shifted him up, up, up towards a window on the ceiling.</p><p>"You little brat!" The woman spat. Any composure or fake kindness disappeared in an instant, leaving behind something ugly, and rotting. She kicked Ed in an effort to cease the transmutation. He seized back with pain, but couldn't stop himself from smiling a bit. It was too late. It had already gone through.</p><p>"Brother! What are you doing!? Ed!!" Alphonse rose to his feet, and Ed waved him goodbye with as much energy as he could muster. Al never called him Ed unless he was pissed or terrified, and he felt bad for a fleeting instant, but at least now, Al had chance of making it out. And that was really all he could hope for in the moment. Even if he hated him for it, even if he felt betrayed, what mattered was that he lived long enough to do that.</p><p>Right. What mattered was that his brother was okay, even if Ed had to go through hell for that to happen. Al had already lost his body. Ed wasn't about to let these people take his life and freedom too.</p><p>"Run! Please Al, just go!" Ed tried to yell, but it was slurred with pain as he watched his brother ascend higher. He suppressed the sudden urge to cry. It hurt, to watch him leave, even if it was for the best, Ed didn't want to be alone. He was so, so scared of being alone, of <em>dying. </em>And as Ed grew colder, and he had to struggle more to stay awake, he wondered if that was what was happening. <em>"Huh." </em>He thought. <em>"I still need to call Winry back for our yearly checkup."</em></p><p>Al tried to find a way down, shifting his weight around the pillar as he searched, and turning his head down as he debated jumping. His armored body cracked through the pane above before he found his answer, and it shattered into pieces. The last thing Ed saw before he fell into darkness was his brother disappearing, and glass shards falling from the ceiling like a deadly snow. </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Oh boy. This one hurt to write. Now if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna sleep now because holy fuck I drafted this chapter like 20 times. I hope y'all enjoyed it. Updates might become slightly less frequent as we get into the heavy stuff, but I'll still post often, so don't worry. Stay safe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mustang investigates one of Clara's bases after leaving the Elrics behind at headquarters.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mustang entered Hawkeye’s car with a sigh, sitting down in the passenger's seat, and shivering a bit as cool air blasted from the AC. She sighed as he reached to turn on the heating. He knew she liked the cold, but goddamn, it was winter, and he was pretty sure her car was 2x more frigid than it was outside. Talk about being hot natured.</p><p>“Did you speak with them?” Riza asked. She put her hands on the wheel as she began to drive to their destination, her gaze fixed on the road with little expression, but he could see the slight furrow of her eyebrows. She didn’t have to specify who she meant, they both already knew who she was talking about. They were intrinsic to this mission, afterall.</p><p>“I told them both to stay behind, and informed the other personnel of their… Position.” Mustang said.</p><p>“Did you tell them why?”</p><p>“Lieutenant, we both know that if they knew, they would just want to go more. It’s better they remain ignorant for now.” He would have to tell them eventually. About the letters and threats he had been receiving for the past two weeks now. About how he was tearing his hair out trying to track them down and make sure they were okay. About how uncharacteristically <em> terrified </em>he had been, in a way he didn't even know he could still feel. Eventually he would tell them, but for now, they were kids. They were kids who had seen hell and came out fighting, but that didn't mean they needed more.  Impulsive children who tried way too hard to prove they were adults, and who were easy targets, despite what they might think. When it came to most cases Mustang trusted the Elrics to be rational. He trusted them to be able to defend themselves. But right now, under threat of either murder or abduction, they needed somebody else's protection. And his team would be those people.</p><p>Hawkeye nodded. The car stopped at a light, and she glanced over to him. "So what did you tell them?"</p><p>"That we're after a gang who's attempting a bank robbery, and to stay out of the way."</p><p>"I suppose that's easier news to break than 'a crazy woman is after you, presumably to either kill you or blackmail your boss, and we have no idea why.'" Her dry attempt at a joke (if you could even call it that) fell flat. She cleared her throat. </p><p>Hawkeye wasn't wrong. It was definitely a nicer version of the story, and knowing Ed, he probably realized something was up.<em> “In fact, he'll probably be mad at me for withholding the truth when this is all over </em> ,” Mustang thought, before imaging Ed’s reaction. <em> “You're the one who told me to join the military, you bastard, and </em> <b> <em>now </em> </b> <em> you're worried about my safety???" </em> He’ll say. Mustang sighed. Hurting Ed’s pride was still preferable to him getting injured, though, annoying as he may be.</p><p>Mustang closed his eyes in an effort to distract himself. Weariness washed over him and pulled him into a sea of exhaustion. God, when was the last time he slept? Every muscle in his body was ready to give up on him. The past 2 weeks had been the longest he'd gone in a while without napping on the job. He would feel proud, but his insomnia was less than optional. For now, though, he knew it was a long drive to their destination. There wasn’t much he could do to prepare but rest. He allowed himself to drift off for a moment, bracing himself against the car door and letting his mind go silent.</p><p>His dreams were fleeting as he hit the zone between conscious and unconscious. He stayed in that limbo for what felt like both a second and an eternity, the occasional bump in the road pulling him out, and his own exhaustion forcing him back in.</p><p>"We're here." Riza pulled him from his nap as the car came to a stop. He got out of the car, leaning against the door as he stifled a yawn and tried to rub the tiredness from his eyes. </p><p>She glanced at him, taking in both his disheveled hair, and the way his clothes wrinkled. He hadn’t found the time or energy to iron them that morning.  "Pardon my bluntness, Colonel, but when this is over, you need to sleep."</p><p>He blinked. "Lieutenant, usually you're begging me not to take a break." A playful smile danced across his lips, and he yawned once more. "Don't tell me you've given up on overworking me or something." </p><p>"You and I both know you're about 30 seconds from passing out. How do you plan to become fuhrer if you get a brain injury on the way down?" She teased, but he heard the inclination of worry in her tone. He felt a small.. Something rise in his chest. </p><p>“Fair point.” He grumbled, looking away and towards the ground. He really did appreciate her concern, but they both knew that he had been through worse. He couldn't rest, at least for now. There was a chance that if he were to take his eyes off this case for even a moment, things would go horribly, horribly wrong. He wouldn't allow that to happen.</p><p>"Alright Lieutenant, I promise to relax after we catch these guys." He smiled, and she smiled back. They stared at each other for a moment, before Fuery’s voice cut through his radio. "Colonel, are you near your position?"</p><p>He turned his mic on. “Yes, tell me when the rest of the team is too. We’ll have to attack at once if we want this to work.”</p><p>“On it, sir.”</p><p>The plan was simple. Barge into the house Greene is said to do her operations in, take her and her supporters into custody, and investigate her plots. Once that was done with, all they had to do was interrogate and… paperwork. He sighed. This investigation was going to require a <em> lot </em> of paperwork. </p><p>Fuery came back on. “Everyone is in position, sir. We’ll go with your signal.” Mustang nodded, taking a steady breath in to brace himself and calm his nerves. It was now or never. “Alright, let’s go.”</p><p>He watched as his team pulled from the shadows, kicked the door in, broke the windows, and stormed into the house. He and Hawkeye were right behind them. Her with her guns, and him with his gloves, fingers prepped to snap at a moment's notice. They entered through the front door of the home. The lights were on, and the place looked lived in, but... there was nobody there. The place was deserted, but that couldn’t be right, Intel said they should all be here. Why weren’t they here? They had to be hiding somewhere. That, or he had been given a false lead.</p><p>“Don’t let your guard down Lieutenant, this could be a trap.” He kept his voice low.</p><p>“Wasn’t about to.”</p><p>They rounded a corner from the living room to the kitchen. There, Havoc and Falman stood. Mustang jumped a little at the sight of them, and they jumped back. A bedroom door nearby opened, and out stepped Fuery and Breda. </p><p>“The bedroom’s clear.” Breda said.</p><p>“Yeah, there’s nothing in there but furniture and a bathroom, which was also clear,” Fuery scratched the back of his neck. “We did find some weapons in the closet, though. A few loaded guns.”</p><p>“They must be upstairs hiding then.” Hawkeye said. Everyone looked at the staircase. </p><p>“Hawkeye and I will go check. You’re all to stay down here and look for clues.” Mustang glanced to his group, who saluted in response. </p><p>The journey up the staircase was tenuous. Hawkeye followed behind him, her gun drawn, as he peaked around the corner that marked the halfway point. Each step he took hit the carpeted floor with a light thud, and his hand traced along the textured walls in an effort to stay grounded. They had to be prepared for a sneak attack, and being on the low ground, they were at a disadvantage. Mustang only realized how hitched his breath had been when they made it to the top. No sign of Clara’s team. He let out a sigh of relief. </p><p>They investigated the two bedrooms, bathroom, and laundry room that made up the top floor. Nobody. They pulled open a hatch to the attic and stepped up, but the only thing Mustang could make out in the dark was spiderwebs, and some boxes that were stored there. They’d have to come back to it later. They journeyed back downstairs. </p><p>In the time they were gone, his team had split across the bottom floor. “Upstairs is clear,” He announced. “Has anybody found anything?”</p><p>“We have confirmed that the pantry does, in fact, have food.” Havoc took a bite out of a granola bar. Fuery stood behind him, fumbling with the wrapper of his own. “We have also confirmed that it is edible, and very delicious.”</p><p>Mustang’s eye twitched. “Havoc, this is a crime scene.”</p><p>“What? Is this the murder weapon?” He joked and took another bite. “With all due respect, Colonel, we’ve been working all day. Least Clara can do is treat us to a little snack after the hell she’s put us through.” </p><p>Mustang sighed. Usually, he would be at least a little entertained by his team's antics, even if he pretended he wasn't. But with everything going on, he just couldn't find it within himself to stop the annoyance that was growing deep within him. “Havoc, take this seriously. There’s nobody here, meaning Fullmetal and his brother are still in danger. We need to stay focused.” </p><p>Havoc frowned. “Mustang, we are focused. But we haven’t had a lunch break in days, we’ve been working overtime non-stop, and you obviously haven’t been sleeping,” He paused, offering a spare bar to Mustang. “Here. Eat this.”</p><p>“Havoc, I’m your superior. You can’t tell me what to do.” He knew he was being childish, but he just felt so frustrated. The longer it took to find these people, the more danger Alphonse and Fullmetal were in.</p><p>“I’m not asking you as a 2nd Lieutenant, I’m asking you as a friend,” He placed the bar in Mustang’s hands. “You’re going to pass out if you don’t eat. You can’t become fuhrer if you get brain damage because you hit your head too hard on the way down.”</p><p>“You’re…” Mustang started, before letting out a sigh. Havoc was just trying to help. “... Actually not the first person to say that.” Hawkeye and Fuery stifled a laugh, and blood rushed to Mustang’s cheeks, staining them a light pink. God he was pathetic. He had forgotten how much he hated it when people worried about him. He looked down at the bar’s bright green wrapper. The plastic was textured between his fingers, and he couldn’t suppress the way his stomach growled as he stared at it. </p><p>There was a moment of silence before he sighed once more. “Fine Havoc, you win.” He unwrapped it with annoyance, and took a bite. He couldn’t lie, it tasted heavenly after living off ham sandwiches and whisky for the past 2 weeks. He scarfed it down before crumpling the wrapper into his pocket.</p><p>“Legally, you did not see me do that.”</p><p>Havoc laughed. “Do what, Colonel? I didn’t see anything.” He flashed a grin, and Mustang returned it with a smile. If he was being honest, he did feel a little less tired now. </p><p>“Alright, let’s get searching. I want every inch of this place inspected for clues. You two are dismissed.” Mustang said.</p><p>“Yes sir.” Havoc and Fuery saluted, before scrambling off to get back to work.</p><p>A few hours passed, but all they were able to gather was that, according to records and photos stored in the attic, this was Christopher Bowman’s house. If they weren’t sure he was involved in the case before, they knew now. </p><p>“Like father like son,” Hawkeye had commented. “It does raise the question of why he would help out when his father had to go to prison because of her, though.”</p><p>Still, it didn’t tell them much that they didn’t already know. Mustang rubbed his temples. Obviously they moved their base and took their plans with them, but the question was where they went, and how they knew Mustang’s team was coming. </p><p>He took a seat on the couch, flipping through files, and scribbling anything interesting he managed to find down in his notebook. Dead end after dead end. He was missing something, but he didn’t know what it was. He ran a hand through his hair, and tried to restrain himself from banging his head on the coffee table. </p><p>“Uh.. Colonel. We have a problem back at Headquarters.” Fuery’s voice butted into his work. He looked up. A problem at headquarters? Couldn’t the people over there deal with it- Oh. Oh no. His blood ran cold. </p><p>“Fullmetal and his brother got out,” Fuery flinched as he spoke. “Apparently they went to the bathroom, and somehow transmuted an exit out of the building.”</p><p>He didn’t give himself time to prepare as he stood up. There wasn’t any time to waste, chances are they were fine, but he wasn’t about to risk it. “Hawkeye, get the car ready,” She nodded before leaving out the front door. Mustang turned to Fuery. “Havoc is in charge in case of an emergency. I want you all to stay here and keep searching for clues until I’m back.” Mustang tried to hide the tremble that was etched into his words as he spoke. God, those kids were going to give him a heart attack one of these days.</p><p>Fuery nodded. “Good luck finding them.”<br/><br/>Mustang nodded back before heading out the door. He really got the feeling that he was going to need it. </p><p>---</p><p>They followed the Elric's trail for hours on end. From hotel staff to pedestrians who spotted them, they searched until they came upon a house party. That was where the trail ended. 15 minutes ago, they left with a woman, and the only clue Mustang had was that they walked south.</p><p>"That means they have to be nearby," Hawkeye said. "If their destination was far, they would have taken a car."</p><p>Mustang nodded. "South.. That's near the outskirts of the city," He swallowed. It was isolated. If something were to happen over there, nobody would know. "They must have been trying to lure them somewhere empty. We're going to need backup, this is giving me a bad feeling."</p><p>"I saw a phone booth a block ago," Hawkeye said. "We should call in now." She seemed a lot more composed than Mustang felt, but he guessed she was just as stressed under her facade of rationality. She always had an uncanny ability to switch everything off and compartmentalize, one that no matter how much he practiced, he couldn't quite mimic.</p><p>"Tell them to send a search party, and make sure they do it quickly. We don't have any time to waste." He adjusted his cap, shivering a little. He was so distracted and worried he barely realized how much colder it was. "I'm going after them."</p><p>Hawkeye nodded. "Be careful, it's supposed to rain tonight," She smiled, but it strained a little in the corners. "I won't be there to protect you, so try not to get wet."</p><p>He laughed. "I've made it this far, and I'm not completely useless on rainy days. I've still got my charm."</p><p>"Right, sir. Your charm." He couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic or not. He waved to her as he turned to leave. There wasn't any more time to waste with banter, as much as he enjoyed it. He made his way down the alley the brothers were said to have gone towards. The breeze stung his face, and his legs ached after walking for so long, but none of that mattered. He was after something more important. </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>It was really refreshing to write from Mustangs point of view. He's a lot more challenging to write for imo, but his dynamic with Riza is so fun to sink your teeth into. I had a blast with this one, so I hope you guys enjoyed a little change in perspective. We'll probably see a chapter from Alphonse next. Stay safe.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Alphonse looks for help.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The rooftop was still, and silent. A breeze blew his single wisp of hair around, and the platform that had brought him up began to crumble.</p><p>“ED!!” Al screamed. He barely heard his own voice over the searing, white hot panic that had overtaken him. He looked down through the hole in the roof, to where his brother lay. He was so far up (or maybe he was just so out of it) that he was only able to tell it was Ed by the blood that surrounded him.</p><p>He opened his hands to look for the chalk Ed had given him. It wasn’t there. He couldn’t transmute a way down.</p><p>He debated jumping, but he knew that even if he’d be alive when he hit the ground, his body would be in pieces.</p><p>There was no way down.</p><p>
  <em> There was no way down. </em>
</p><p>God, why didn’t he listen to Mustang and stay put? Why didn’t he fight harder? Why didn’t he stop Ed from getting shot? Why didn’t he jump off the platform when he had the chance? So many “whys” and “should haves” invaded his mind that it felt like he was suffocating. He tried, desperately, to take a breath, before realizing that he couldn’t. There was no way to stop it. He had to think. He had to get down there and help his brother before it was too late. They were supposed to catch Chris and walk back to Mustang’s office filled with pride. They were supposed to get a slap on the wrist for disobeying orders, and then leads on the stone after. They were supposed to get their bodies back.</p><p>This wasn’t what was supposed to happen.</p><p>He watched as someone new entered the room below, and spoke to the woman. He watched as she looked up to where Al was, and for a moment, his eyes met hers. He watched as someone picked up his brother's dying body and dragged him out the front door. He was unable to make out their words as they spoke, but he didn’t know if that was because he was having trouble processing, or if he really was that high up.</p><p>All he could do was wait. Dread began to replace the panic. He sat down, curling his arms around his legs, and setting his head in his lap in a desperate effort to try to find some comfort. He banged his hardened glove on the roof's floor, and felt nothing in return. No dull throb, or spare glass shard that pierced his skin, but he supposed he didn't know why he bothered in the first place. Everything just felt unreal. Like this wasn’t happening.</p><p>He had to wait for them to come and capture him, and take him to god knows where. He had no way of stopping it. They had his brother. Even if he tried to fight back, they would threaten to hurt Ed. Al would just be preventing him from getting medical treatment.</p><p>So there he sat. Pathetic, terrified, and alone. He sat and he waited for Truth knows how long, shivering even in the armor. It felt like time had frozen. It was only when he heard an owl chirp from the forest that he finally gathered the resolve to look up.</p><p>Why wasn’t anybody coming after him?</p><p>He looked down through the hole again. Nothing signified the group had been there at all other than blood, the ditch, and broken crates. They were gone, all of them. He jumped up, his footsteps ringing around the roof as he searched for any sign of them below. His movements were jerky, desperate, and uncontrolled, like when he had just gotten the armor, and had difficulty working it. It was too dark, even if they were outside the building, he couldn’t see.</p><p>Everything was silent, and that's when it hit him. They left him.</p><p>And for as much as Alphonse didn't want to be captured, that made him angry. They took his brother, his only brother, and left him behind. He didn't even get to say goodbye. He could be <em> dead </em>, and Al didn't even get to say goodbye. Instead he was stuck on a roof with no way down, and nobody knew where he was. Nobody was going to come for him.</p><p>A drop of water reverberated on his armor. Then another. And when a few more fell, an idea struck him. He hunched over a small part of the roof, one near the edge, to protect it from getting wet. He had to do this fast, or he could miss his chance. He traced his hand along his arm, gathering the water that had fallen, and began to draw a transmutation circle. It was dark, and he could barely see what he was doing, but his red eyes reflected on the water, and helped guide his hand. When it was done, he clapped his hands, and turned half of the roof into a ladder.</p><p>---</p><p>Hawkeye wasn’t lying about the rain, that’s for sure. Each drop was a cold, harsh prickle against Mustangs skin. They soaked his hair and ran down his back, making him shiver as he trudged through the area where concrete sidewalks turned to earthen paths. It was only a few degrees away from snow. He tucked his hands into his pockets. Last thing he needed was for his gloves to get wet.</p><p>About 30 minutes ago, he had bumped into another scouting group headed by Armstrong, who had been in town for some reason or another. Honestly, Mustang was so out of it that he barely listened to the man as he spoke. They had made it up to the woods that signified the outskirts of East City. Most of the buildings were either abandoned, or a part of the slums.</p><p>“Edward! Alphonse!?” Armstrong called out. His voice boomed over the empty buildings, but the energy it usually held was gone. His words seemed uncharacteristically withdrawn. Mustang couldn’t blame him, though. The longer it took for the two boys to show up, the more the group's anxiety seemed to swell. Mustang’s mind hoped, desperately, that they would pop out behind one of these trees unscathed, confused on why there were so many people searching.</p><p>
  <em> “Oh, we didn’t mean to worry you.. Sorry!” Alphonse would say. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Why would you send a search party after us!?” Fullmetal would butt in. “What do you think we are, babies? We’d kick the ass of anyone who even tried to lay a finger on us, you dumbass!” </em>
</p><p>Mustang sighed. He could only hope that would be the case, but the longer they were missing, the more the dread in his stomach began to grow. It’s not like the Elrics had never disappeared off the radar before. In fact, they’d been MIA for the past two weeks. But that didn’t make it any less worrying. He felt so useless. He had promised to protect his men, and if he couldn’t even do that… Mustang didn’t want to think about it. For now, he had to focus on what he could do right this second.</p><p>So he kept walking, his head held high, and his hand prepared for a fight. He was going to find them. He wasn't going to let either of them get injured. He had promised, all those years ago, to take care of those below him, so they could so the same. And Mustang always kept his promises. </p><p>Something reflected his flashlight, and thought he had been hallucinating when heard hollow thunks of metal draw near from the shadows. He wasn’t. It was Alphonse. Mustang and the group stared at him, and he stared back.</p><p>“Colonel-” He began.</p><p>“Alphonse! My boy! We’ve been worried sick!” Armstrong cut him off and ran forward to hug the boy, before his arms withdrew as fast as they had come. “My, you are cold! How about I hug you again when you're warmed up inside, eh?”</p><p>“Stop harassing him, Armstrong.” Armstrong backed off, and Mustang looked at the armored boy as a tsunami of relief flooded over his body. He was safe, thank god he was safe. Mustang didn’t know what he would’ve done with himself if he wasn’t. But as quickly as he thanked Truth for his well-being, anger began to set in.</p><p>“Colonel, I-” Al started once more. Mustang held his hand up to silence him. He had spent the past few hours ripping his hair out and berating himself over his and Fullmetal’s safety. He had scoured the entire south side in 40 degree weather, with a search team, just because they disobeyed his orders. To do what? Go on a walk?</p><p>“Alphonse,” He interrupted. “I gave you orders, very specific orders, to stay behind. You’re not a part of the military by technicality, but you’re lucky I won’t have you thrown in jail for disobeying an officer.” He stared at the boy, and tried his best not to lose his cool in front of his juniors. He had to be a good example for them, but he couldn’t help the way his eyes sharpened, and his eyebrows furrowed.</p><p>“Colonel!-” Alphonse’s voice bordered on yelling, and his tone seemed to plead.</p><p>“Do not interrupt me while I am speaking!” Mustang barked back. He flinched at his tone, and took a sharp, angry breath, before attempting to regain his composure. “You and your brother are under house arrest, effective immediately."</p><p>“COLONEL!” Alphonse was yelling now. His voice cracked with emotion, and his hands were balled in fists. The rain slid off him and into droplets on the ground. It was dark, but his eyes seemed even duller than they usually were in daylight. Mustang’s stomach dropped. Al never yelled, ever.</p><p>“Alphonse,” Mustang swallowed back his growing anxiety. That's when big it hit him. Ed wasn't there. He had been so relieved at the sight of one Elric brother that he barely noticed the other was missing. “Where is Fullmetal?”</p><p>“H-He,” Al started again, but seemed to bite his metaphorical tongue. A pit grew in Mustang's stomach.</p><p>“They took him,” Alphonse seemed to swallow. “They took him. It's all my fault, he got shot, and they had us cornered, and he tried to make me escape, and I couldn’t get down until they were already gone and they-” He cut off, placing his head in his hands. “They took him, Colonel. They took brother.”</p><p>“What do you mean? Who’s they?-” Armstrong spoke up, and Mustang cut him off.</p><p>“Call in for more people!” Mustang barked at a nearby corporal. He recognized her as one of the staff he had put on duty to watch the brothers, and bit back a snarl that threatened to rise from his throat. Her legs were shaking and her reaction was delayed. She seemed to still be in shock as well, but they didn’t have time for that. “Now dammit!” He yelled again. “I want every person available on duty!” She gave a quick (albiet strained) “Yes sir!” Before scurrying off to a telephone booth nearby.</p><p>Mustang turned to the remaining soldiers, who stared wide eyed back to him. "The rest of you, keep looking until a new batch comes to relieve you. The first 24 hours are the most vital. Go in teams of 2. You are dismissed." The group saluted and followed orders, teaming into pairs before going their separate ways. </p><p>Mustang pinched his eyebrows. God, this was a mess. “Alphonse,” Al’s head perked up at his words, but just barely. “Do you know which way they went?”</p><p>Al shook his head. “I’m sorry, Colonel, it was too dark to see. I barely know where I came from, or where we are now.” His voice was shaky, and he seemed out of it, like he wasn’t quite as grounded to reality as usual.</p><p>“You mentioned he was shot, Alphonse,” Mustang tried to keep his tone steady. Strong. He needed to be strong and immovable right now. Alphonse already seemed close to breaking, Mustang couldn’t let himself fumble. “How severe was the injury?” Al didn’t react right away, and his gaze seemed fixed on the wall behind Mustang.</p><p>“Alphonse,” Mustang spoke again. “You need to snap out of it so we can help your brother. How bad was it?”</p><p>“Really bad, Colonel,” Mustang was sure the boy would be crying right now if it weren’t for the armor. “He was bleeding everywhere, and then he passed out. I-I think he might-” Alphonse fell to his knees, unable to finish, and his voice grew quieter. “I’m sorry,” He choked out. “It’s all my fault, I’m so sorry,” Mustang wasn’t sure if he was talking to him, or Ed. He buried his head between the metal thighs of his armor. “I should’ve helped him when I noticed something was wrong, and I didn’t, because he said it was fine. But he was lying, and it’s all my fault," Al peeked up, and his eyes flickered a little. In that moment, even in the armor, he seemed so small. Like he really was just a scared, confused 12 year old child. "He could be dead, and it's all my fault..." He was hardly audible.</p><p>Armstrong was crying. "Alphonse," He spoke. Al shifted his gaze away, his soulfire eyes staring at a murky puddle that was flowing into the sewer below. "Alphonse, my boy, look at me," He didn't listen. Mustang noticed how the armor seemed to shake. Armstrong sighed. "This isn't your fault." Armstrong's words were tentative. "You have nothing to apologize for."</p><p>"But-" Al started. Mustang held up his hand. "Major Armstrong is correct. This is my burden to bear, we were unable to catch Clara before she acted," He looked to Alphonse before glancing away. His nails dug into his palms dully. He was sure that if it weren't for the gloves, he would have drawn blood. "We should've protected you two better, please forgive me."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Alphonse looked at him, and then his eyes sharpened with realization. “You knew,” His voice wasn’t accusatory, at least on the surface, but it was said with such disbelief that Mustang felt his chest constrict.</p><p>"Yes," He managed to get out, before casting his gaze downwards. “Clara was pursuing you, and we-”</p><p>"And you didn't think to tell us?!?" Alphonse stood, clutching his fist to his side as he drew closer to Mustang. Usually, the boy was so silent and polite that it was easy to overlook the armor. It was easy to forget about the domineering sharpness of its edges, and the unnerving eyes that seemed to peer straight through you. It was easy to not be intimidated. But now, Mustang realized Alphonse was always a little bit scary. He just hid it well.</p><p>Mustang pressed his lips thin, and his stomach churned so hard he thought he was going to be sick. The feeling rose up into his chest, and he realized how angry he still was. “You two weren’t supposed to leave headquarters for a reason! What, do you think I throw orders around just because I think it’s funny?” He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We were afraid if you knew, you'd just get more involved… But apparently, we were mistaken, seeing as you somehow managed to anyways.” </p><p>Alphonse went silent, but Mustang could still see the cold rage in his eyes. He guessed the boy was just too emotional to come up with a response.</p><p>“We planned to take her down tonight,” Mustang continued before he could get cut off. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…” His voice went quiet, and he felt some heat trickle out of him as he ran a hand through his hair. “God dammit,” He hissed, and tried to suppress the burning he felt in his eyes. “This wasn’t supposed to happen.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Here comes the angst train. Also, if you're wondering, the woman who Mustang yelled at to call for more support was the same one who Ed and Al talked to before they escaped. This fic was planned to be about 20,000 words, but as we've already hit the 18k mark, it's probably going to land closer to 40-50k. I'm also thinking about writing some Edling or Edwin, so if you're interested in a romance story to take a break from the angst, let me know!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ed has a horrible time.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Trigger warning for abuse/mishandling from a medical figure/doctor. This is kind of a darker chapter than the others, even though it still has a bit of a light tone. (Ed's so sarcastic and in denial that he's pretty much refusing to analyze his emotions past the surface level, or think too hard about how fucked up this is.)  The ones from Ed's POV are probably only going to get worse from here. He's not exactly with the best people who are going to tolerate his bs, or hold back when he pisses them off. Which he likes to do on purpose. If you're unable to handle explicit violence at times, I really encourage you to quit reading, because this one might get heavy. Nothing too crazy, but heavy. With that out of the way, please enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“AL! Ed!”</p><p>A voice; his mother's came from downstairs. He glanced up from his book to the doorway.</p><p>“Dinners ready!”</p><p>“Alright!” Alphonse leaped from his place near Ed, nearly tripping over some spare books on the floor in his haste. “Ed, clean up your books,” He huffed. “They’re on my side of the room, I almost fell.”</p><p>“It’s not my fault you’re a klutz,” He shrugged. “Do it yourself, you read them too.”</p><p>“Brother! You always put me on clean up duty. Mom said you have to pitch in too,” He crossed his arms, before smirking. “Unless you want me to tell her you’re not-”</p><p>“Fine! Fine! I’ll do it,” He rolled his eyes, slamming the novel he had been reading onto the bed sheets, and flinching as the pages crinkled. He grinned back to Al, who stood with triumph. “But only if you beat me to dinner!”</p><p>He had gotten the head start, breaking out into a sprint as he flung the door open. The walls shook from the collision, and the small, frantic thuds behind him meant his brother had caught on. He cackled as he raced down the stairs, Alphonse’s loud complaints following right after. Adrenaline coursed through him, but not the anxious, stressed kind. In fact, he didn’t think he could be upset right now if he tried. He just felt blissfully, ignorantly content.</p><p>He reached the doorway. His father was at the table, reading a paper, and the scent of lemon and spices wafted throughout the kitchen. His stomach grumbled, and he was about to jump into his mother’s arms to declare victory.</p><p>And then he wasn’t home anymore.</p><p>The first thing Ed processed was a dull ache in his right leg. The second was the wishful sadness the dream brought him. The third was a person, standing right over him.</p><p>And the fourth, that was that he was <em> not </em>supposed to be here. He wasn’t sure where the hell “here” even was.</p><p>“Who the fuck are you?” He braced to sit up, but couldn’t lift himself. A searing pain sprouted from his ribs and leg. His eyes darted down to figure out what the issue was, and then he realized that he only had one leg, and the other was covered in enough bandages and gauze that it could be mistaken for a mummies. He was down his right arm, too, and his left was hooked to an IV. A cold dread set in. He couldn’t even walk in this state, much less transmute.</p><p>“Wouldn’t try to move if I were you,” The man wrote something on his notepad. His expression was blank, and he was dressed in doctor's robes. “You got shot. Miracle you survived, really, with how much you bled out. Unfortunately, we don’t know your blood type, so you’re probably going to be weak for awhile until your body replenishes,” He paused. “Oh, you’ve got some bruised ribs too.”</p><p>Ah, so that’s it. The memories came back to him, and the instant where he flashed back to before could only be described as a mega-fucked sundae with im-an-idiot whipped cream and a shit cherry on top. His mind was hazy, but he could tell that wherever he was was, most likely, <em>not</em> friendly. He wasn’t in a hospital room. It seemed to be some sort of bedroom. A bookshelf and a desk stood across from him, but other than that, decor was scarce, and there were no windows. The only light was from a fixture above. He realized he was shirtless, and his coat was discarded lazily over a chair near the desk. It was stained with dirt and blood. Ed flinched in remembrance. He had been shot, and if he had to guess, the bruised ribs were from when he'd been kicked.</p><p>His eyelids were heavy, and he shivered even under the covers. Cold sweat dripped down his neck, uncomfortable and sticky against the sheets below him. He should have listened to Al when he told him to bundle up for winter, even if he’ll never admit it, he does get sick every year- Wait. Al. There was just enough haze and exhaustion to prevent him from rampaging with anger in the moment everything fully shifted into place.</p><p>“My brother,” He growled at the man, but it came out slurred and uneven. “If you guys did anything to my brother, I’ll fucking kill you.”</p><p>The man stared at him, his lips drawn together, and his eyebrows raised just enough to convey surprise. “In that state?” It wasn’t an attack, more a question.</p><p>“Yeah, in this state,” He tried to push up once more, this time taking into account his missing arm. He managed to raise a few pathetic inches, and his eyes met the mans, his voice speaking before his brain really could.“I’ll rip your jugular out with nothing but my teeth and fingernails if there is even a scratch on him that wasn’t there before.”</p><p>He drilled his gaze into the doctors, who seemed more amused and annoyed than scared. This only pissed Ed off more.</p><p>The man sighed. “Currently, like it or not, your life is in my hands,” He paused. “You’re only breathing because <em> I </em> treated you. And the only reason I did that is because if <em> you </em> die, <em> I’m </em>the one who has to deal with it,” He stared down to Ed and spoke in a tone that said I-could-ask-you-to-lick-my-boots-clean-and-there’s-nothing-you-can-do-because-I-can-and-will-hurt-you-if-you-step-out-of-line. Ed, being the person he is, took it as a challenge. “I don’t wanna be here anymore than you, kid.”</p><p>Ed's eyes narrowed. “Call me kid and I’ll choke you with these bandages.”</p><p>That actually solicited a laugh, he just <em> threatened </em> the man, and he had the balls to <em> laugh </em>. “You’re what, 10? I’m sorry, but your baby face is anything but intimidating.”</p><p>“I’m thirteen and 3 months!”</p><p>“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re 5’0 max-”</p><p>“Who are you calling so short!-”</p><p>“And have about 2/3rds the amount of blood you should, not to mention that fever..” The man spoke over him in a mutter, ignoring anything he shouted as he scribbled in his clipboard. “I’m going to need to take your vitals now that you’re awake. Try anything, and I’ll sedate you on the spot.”</p><p>Ed narrowed his eyes. Fuck no, he wasn’t letting the enemy near him, much less take his vitals. What he needed to do is get the hell out of here, not play doctor-patient while Al was probably either hurt or panicked over him somewhere. “And what if I say no.” He growled.</p><p>“That wasn’t a request, kid. I’m taking your vitals. If you want to do it on a healthy dose of benadryl, that’s your prerogative, but I can’t promise you’ll wake up if I say, overdo it on accident.”</p><p>Nothing pissed Ed off more than being threatened. He really wanted nothing more than to wipe the smug, indifferent look of the man's face with a nice, dirty punch to the jaw. He prepared himself to do so, before his body kindly reminded him that if he stood up too fast he’d probably pass out. He huffed. If you can’t fight, and you can’t threaten, it’s best to gather Intel. That was one of the few lessons from Mustang that stuck. “I thought you said you had to keep me alive?”</p><p>“I do. That’s why it’d be such a shame.”</p><p>“Yeah, but why? I clearly walked into a criminal operation. A normal person would’ve left me dead for someone else to deal with.”</p><p>“Well, Clara is anything but a normal woman,” He sighed. “I just work for her. If you wanna know what she’s up to, ask her yourself. Though I doubt you’ll get anything out of it, asking her to answer a question directly is like trying to wring every drop of water from a cloth that never dries.”</p><p>Ed was about to respond, before the name “Clara” resurfaced in his mind. Clara, Clara… Where had he heard that name before?</p><p>“That’s the woman from the warehouse, right?” He didn’t want to say “the one who kidnapped me”, or “the reason I’m currently down two limbs again and can’t even talk clearly without putting every ounce of focus I have into it”. That would imply she was successful in whatever fucked-up thing she was trying to do here. He wouldn’t give her that credit, or satisfaction, in any way, even to himself. He isn’t kidnapped. He’s getting out of here, no matter what.</p><p>“Yeah,” The doctor peered up from his papers. “Probably. She did say something about fighting at a really tall warehouse, and regretting the fact that she’d overlooked windows as an escape route, wasn’t really listening. Too busy trying to keep you from bleeding all over my car.”</p><p>He scoured his brain for when he’d heard the name, before he came across what he was looking for. Clara. Clara Greene. The bitch Havoc was talking about earlier today- Wait no, it couldn’t have been today. How long had he been here? Whatever, that didn’t matter. They said she was attempting a bank robbery, though. Why bother with a robbery if she was just going to kidnap someone instead? Oh. Wait. He couldn’t help but to face palm. <em>Fuck</em>, that’s why Mustang was acting so weird about him leaving HQ! They lied about the robbery, obviously. Mustang <em>was</em> just trying to bullshit them into staying behind. He knew if he told the truth, Ed would just go after her himself. Some crazy woman was trying to kidnap him and his brother, and his dumbass walked right into it like a bunny to a forest trap. He couldn’t even be angry. He was just.. Slightly in shock at it all.</p><p>“Open your mouth so I can take your temperature.” The man snapped him out of his thoughts, and held a thermometer to his mouth.</p><p>“No.” Ed said, tilting his head. They wanted to have him so bad? Fine. But he’ll make every second absolutely excruciating for everyone involved.</p><p>“Open. Your. Mouth.” He gritted between clenched teeth.</p><p>“Shove it up your ass-” The man grabbed his mouth as he spoke, forcing it open, and shoving the thermometer in. Ed heard an uncomfortable pop, and the man’s fingers dug into the sides of his cheeks, right between his top and bottom teeth. Ed tried to thrash his head away, but ended up just biting the flesh that had been pushed in from the man's grip. He tasted metal. The doctor let go, before holding Ed’s nose. “Close your mouth and let it sit.” He demanded. Ed glared at him, before doing as he said, but with his nose blocked off, he couldn’t breathe. He tried to open his mouth again in an effort to draw breath, but the man just pressed his hand back over it. “Keep fighting and I’ll do this until you pass out.” He hissed.</p><p>The next 45 seconds were horrible. Ed tried to suppress the dizzying sensation that was starting to take over. He couldn’t tell if it was the fever, the lack of oxygen, or the fear that was making it so hard to feel anything but desperation. He gulped, before weaving his expression into one of pure, unfiltered hatred. He wasn’t about to show this person that he was scared, if only a little bit. His instincts were telling him to thrash and fight, but his brain knew that it would just waste energy. And he didn’t have energy to spare right now. Right as Ed started to get light headed enough to faint again, the thermometer beeped, and the man’s grip loosened.</p><p>He gasped as air filled his desperate lungs once more, dulling the throbbing in his head as blood began to pump properly again. "The fuck was that about?!" He wanted to sound threatening, but it was strained, and the grit he wanted to convey was fleeting, at best. </p><p>"I warned you." The doctor said, tone completely even, and not a hint of annoyance or remorse. He glanced down before grabbing his clipboard, and jotting down something once again.</p><p>Ed glared at him. That's how he wanted to do this, fine. He didn't enjoy getting manhandled or suffocated, but he'll do anything to prove a point. He tried not to think too hard about how both scary and totally fucked this was. A small part of him <em>was</em> terrified. In his fever, it was hard to process much other than fear and anger. He was away from Al, unsure about his brother’s safety, and these people could kill him right now and there wouldn’t be much he could do to stop it. He needed to be smart, practice self preservation, but this guy seemed like anything he did wouldn't be purposefully lethal, even if it hurt. Ed could do hurt. He really hoped that if he was too much of a pain, they'd get annoyed and let him go, or at the very least he can make their plans harder to carry out. There wasn't much he could do other than be indignant, but that was better than being complaisant. Being a military dog isn't the same as being docile to anyone who asked you to sit, stay, or roll over. (Not that he listens to his CO's half the time anyways.) He wasn't about to do anything to make these people's lives easier.</p><p>The next few tests pretty much went the same way. Ed was told to do something, refused to out of spite, and then got forced to anyways. By the end of it, he has bitten the doctor 2x, slapped him once, and received various marks in return himself. Not bad, for being presumably fresh out of a coma, if all the needles in his arm were anything to go by. It was almost fun in a fucked up sort of way. It had been too long since Ed had gotten to thoroughly piss someone off, and he had no plans to stop being insufferable.</p><p>The man rubbed his cheek, where swelling had started to bloom. “You’re a fighty one. You shouldn’t bite the hand that feeds, you know.”</p><p>“Yeah, well I wouldn’t exactly call <em> shooting me in the leg </em>a reason to respect any of you.” </p><p>“I liked you better when you were in a coma,” The doctor grumbled. “Wish we would’ve fed you enough anesthesia to keep it that way.”</p><p>Ed perked up, ignoring his annoyance. He needed to know how long he’d been here. “Wait, how long was I out?”</p><p>“2 days comatose, one half awake. Though I doubt you’ll remember any of it, your fever was pretty high.”</p><p>3 days in all. He’s been missing for 3 days. He may feel like he’s been hit 5 times by a 3,000lb pickup truck, but at least he’s aware enough to talk, and understand what’s happening. </p><p>A knock came from the other side of the door. Ed narrowed his eyes, and the doctor moved to open it. </p><p>“Hey Martins, Clara said she wants the kid for dinner as soon as- Oh, look! He’s awake!” It was Chris, his everlasting, fake smile plastered on his face. Ed thought he was going to be sick. The first thing this guy does, 3 days after putting a bullet in his leg that apparently almost <em> killed </em>him, was smile?? </p><p>“You!” He shouted, pointing to the man. “You shot me!”<br/><br/>“Oh, yeah, sorry about that,” He scratched the back of his neck. “Just following orders. I’m sure you military folk get it,” He held a hand out. “No hurt feelings?”</p><p>Ed spat on his hand. Chris’s smile widened. He pulled away, wiping the palm on his hood. “Alright then. Glad to see you’re lively.”</p><p>“Tell me about it, he’s been a menace all morning,” The doctor (Martins, apparently) grumbled. Ed grinned at him. Good! He’s been doing his job correctly. “He should barely be conscious, but he’s somehow mustered up enough energy to bite my arm twice.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, stop being an asshole and let me go, and you won’t get bit.” </p><p>Chris shook his head. “No can do, sorry,” He wasn’t sorry. “Although I’d recommend you be careful who you treat poorly, we’re only under orders to be nice to an extent.”</p><p>“Why do you care?” </p><p>“Well, you’re a kid. I don’t like seeing kids get hurt.”</p><p>“And yet you shot me.”</p><p>He shrugged. “I said I’m sorry. What's done is done, can’t help you past that.”</p><p>Ed rolled his eyes. He didn’t want a fake-apology, he wanted to get the fuck out of here. Chris wasn’t actively hostile, and seemed to be more friendly than the doctor, but Ed couldn’t tell how much of that was being faked. He couldn’t count on anything from these people. He needed to be careful what he told them. They clearly wanted him alive for a reason, so even if they were nice, he couldn’t give them anything that could work as leverage. With his automail missing, he needed any upper-hand he could get. A part of him almost wished he had listened to Mustang’s lessons about gathering Intel for more than 3 seconds at a time. He was really getting the feeling he could’ve used them. </p><p>God, he was going to punch Mustang so hard for lying about this shit. Yeah, he probably would’ve still gone after them, but it would’ve been <em> nice </em> to have a warning. But now he was stuck here, unable to walk, feeling feverish, with two random criminals in the room who are not only annoying assholes, but will probably tie him to this bed for even <em> thinking </em> about escaping. </p><p>“Hey, kid-” Chris was waving a hand in front of his face. “You dizzy? You spaced out.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” He said eloquently. “I’m fine. What’d you want?” </p><p>“Does your mama know you use that kind of language?” Chris tsked. Ed glared. “Guess not,” Chris muttered. “I was trying to tell you that Clara’s gonna want you for dinner later, so you’re gonna wanna rest up.”</p><p>Ed raised an eyebrow. “Dinner?”</p><p>“Yeah, said she wanted to discuss the terms of you staying here.”</p><p>He made it sound like Ed was renting an apartment or something. “Why doesn’t she just come in here to talk, not like I can go anywhere.” He grumbled. He had no intention of staying, but they didn’t need to know that.</p><p>“Probably doesn’t wanna deal with a brat right now,” Martins muttered. “I wouldn’t want to either.”</p><p>“You’re going to have to get more creative than “brat” if you wanna hurt my feelings, asshole.” Ed knew he was twice as capable than both of these people. He didn't exactly appreciate being called a brat like he was just some idiot child, but he’s heard <em> way </em> worse than that in the year he’d spent in the military. Not to mention Teacher's creative insults, and while Alphonse acted all sweet and innocent, he was just as snarky as Ed at times, and his words always stung when he wanted them to. They were amateurs compared to some of the shit that’d been thrown his way. One time Winry said he was about as useful as a white crayon. Now <em> that </em>had hurt. White crayons are great for colored paper, thank you very much. </p><p>He stifled a yawn, rubbing his eyes with his spare hand, and stretching his left leg in place. Truth, he missed them so much he thought he was going to be extra-sick. He'd give anything for a wrench to the head if it meant he got to talk to Winry, even for a second. He shook his head. Yeah, he was definitely feeling feverish. He always got all... emotional and gross when he was like this. He sighed. The exhaustion was really starting to set in now that he had gotten through the whole panicking over where he was thing. “Whatever," He sighed, trying to suppress the ache in his chest. "Get out so I can sleep.” </p><p>Chris raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think you have much say over what we do.”</p><p>“Fine, creep. Stay here and watch. I’m going to bed. Wake me up when the bitch wants to have a chat.” He laid down, adjusting his limbs to the best of his ability, and trying to ignore the dull sting of needles in his arm. Was it the smartest idea to sleep right in front of the enemy? Probably not, but apparently he’d been doing it for the past 3 days anyways. His body and brain were so exhausted that they didn’t provide much protest. He closed his eyes, flipped the pair off when they complained about him, and found unconsciousness taking him faster than he honestly would’ve liked.</p><p>He was going to escape. Dying wasn’t an option, and neither was staying here. He wasn’t about to hesitate, and he wasn’t about to lose. For now, all he could do was sleep, and hope that helped him regain some stamina.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Doctor: listen kid if you die i get my ass beat<br/>Ed: then perish</p><p>---</p><p>Sorry this one took a little longer! The 6 weeks are coming up, so schools been beating my ass with a fuckton of late work and tests. I tried to make this one a little longer to make up for it. I'll try to post again within 3-4 days, but it may be up until a week. Until then, take care. Also I know literally nothing about health care stuff, so everything in this is from the first page of Google. If you're a medical person, or have seen enough Grey's Anatomy to consider yourself one, please correct me. I am very ignorant to how that all works.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The hommunculi start their search, and Alphonse has a comforting conversation.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Sorry this one took longer than expected. I'm gonna try to start updating every Sunday, so hopefully a schedule will make these more consistent. With that, please enjoy the angst fest.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Lust prided herself on her intellect. She was pretty, yes, but above that, she was cunning. That’s why it was so frustrating when, even after 3 days of investigation, she still had little idea of where one of the very, very valuable sacrifices had run off to. </p><p> </p><p>“Brat probably got himself killed, you heard the brother’s report,” Envy shrugged. They had sprawled themselves across a couch, seeming to have little concern about how much this threw a wrench in the plan. “We’ll get a new one, we still have time.”</p><p> </p><p>“You know as well as I do that that’s easier said than done, Envy,” Lust ran a thoughtful hand through her hair, twirling it around one of the curls, her brain scouring for any misplaced details. Her lips worked themselves into a frown. If she had the ability to age, she may have worried about the furrow in her eyebrows causing wrinkles. “No, something about this feels… Off.”</p><p> </p><p>“Or maybe you’re just not as smart as you think you are,” Envy grinned. “Really, Lust, being outwitted by a couple of humans is not a good look.”</p><p> </p><p>“And what are you doing to help? Father’s going to be just as furious at you if he’s not found before The Promised Day.”</p><p> </p><p>“Pshh, that’s what? 2 years away? If he really was kidnapped, the police will probably find him by then or something,” They waved their hand nonchalantly. “Did you try having your dog track him?”</p><p> </p><p>“To do that we need something that belonged to him, and there’s no guarantee his scent is strong enough.”</p><p> </p><p>“Still worth a shot. Break into his house and steal a shirt or something,” Envy shrugged. “The police suspect they’re in the city, after all. They couldn’t have gone far if they want to keep him alive, he’s probably on all sorts of life support after losing <em> that </em>much blood.”</p><p> </p><p>Lust paused. Envy was a nuisance, and mostly stupid, but they did have their occasional bright moment. “Gluttony!” She called. </p><p> </p><p>“Lust?” He lumbered up from where he had sat in the corner. Some blood dribbled down his chin, an unsightly remnant of the person he’d been feasting upon. </p><p> </p><p>Lust smiled. “We have a job for you, it’s very important.” She paused. This did bring up the issue of how she was going to get something that belonged to the alchemist, though. She needed something airtight, that was sure to be his, lest they end up tracking the wrong target. They didn’t have that kind of guarantee if she broke into his apartment willy-nilly, and grabbed something random…. But wait, they didn’t need to track Fullmetal himself, someone who had been with him would also do. And they just so happened to have a house full of stuff belonging to a suspect. She patted Gluttony's head. Maybe this investigation was going better than expected. Human’s were, afterall, stupid creatures. She knew there was a hole to be found in their plan. She was going to catch it, and bring the sacrifice home long before The Promised Day. </p><p>---</p><p> </p><p>Riza Hawkeye was somebody who compartmentalized. When there was an issue, she addressed it as logically and professionally as possible. When that meant killing someone, she did it without hesitance. When that meant suppressing her memories of Ishval so she could sleep a little better at night, she forced them down with every ounce of strength she could muster. But when that meant comforting the grieving family of Edward Elric, knowing that their suffering was, in some part, due to her own negligence, she was unable to think as clearly as she would’ve liked to. She was slipping. Bit by bit, day by day, and she couldn’t afford to do that. With everyone else in disarray, she needed to be there to pick up the pieces. It was the least she could do. </p><p> </p><p>The night it happened was the hardest, but the days after hadn’t been any kinder.</p><p> </p><p>Winry had sat in the Colonels office for about 20 minutes now, her head in between her hands, sobbing as Riza broke the news. At first she was in disbelief, refusing to accept what she had been told, but as Riza shared more details, she only grew more hysterical.</p><p> </p><p>“I think that’s quite enough,” The old woman-Pinako, told Riza. She rubbed a hand down Winry’s back, who seemed to not even notice. “Spare us the rest, for now. I assume there’s an investigation?”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, we’re working on it,” She nodded curtly, before her gaze fell upon Winry. Something constricted in her chest, and reached up into her throat. She was never great at comforting others. A part of her wished that Alphonse had done this himself, but he was even more engrossed in the investigation than she was. Ever since that night, he hadn’t stopped searching. He didn’t even really want them to tell Winry, but, when pressed, wouldn’t say why. He refused to talk to Mustang’s team outside of investigations, and rejected seeing a therapist when asked. Winry was their best bet at comforting him. She was the only person Riza suspected he could relate to. “Ms. Rockbell, I’m aware that you and Fullmetal were close-”</p><p> </p><p>“We <em> are </em> close!” She yelled between sobs. “Don't talk like you’ve given up on him when it’s only been a few days!”</p><p> </p><p>Riza swallowed. “Right, apologies,” Riza had to stop herself from fiddling with the hem of her shirt, a nervous habit that she was convinced she kicked years ago. “Just know that we <em> are </em>looking for him, with all the resources we can spare. We’re going to get him back, but-”</p><p><br/>“But what?” </p><p> </p><p>“There’s a chance it may just be a body,” Riza wasn’t a liar. She didn’t want to supply this girl with false hope when reality was likely to be far harsher. “We’re going to look, and we suspect the kidnappers would not let him die easily, but… He lost a lot of blood, Ms. Rockbell.”</p><p> </p><p>Winry only stared. Her eyes were puffy, and Riza wondered if she should offer her some water. “But he’s <em> not </em>dead,” Winry’s hands balled, and her eyes became more glossy. “This-This is Ed we’re talking about. He survived losing a leg, he can survive getting shot in one, right?” </p><p> </p><p>Riza really, really hoped Winry was right. “That’s what we’re betting on, Ms. Rockbell,” She offered her what she could of a smile, meant to be reassuring, but it barely grazed her lips. It felt wrong, to be the one to comfort Winry, when she was to blame, at least in some part. “That aside, I do have a favor to ask.”</p><p> </p><p>Winry snapped up. “What is it?”</p><p> </p><p>“We need you to talk to Alphonse.”</p><p> </p><p>Winry threw her a inquisitive look.</p><p> </p><p>“He’s… He’s taking this as badly as you'd expect. He won’t talk to any of us, for good reason, but it’s concerning,” She frowned. “We’re unsure of how to help him.” </p><p> </p><p>Riza felt bad for putting this on another kid, when, as an adult, she should handle this herself, but he wouldn’t talk to anyone. All he offered were leads when he found them, and sassy remarks under his breath when anyone tried to bother him. He'd grown cold to any support from the team. He refused to speak about anything that wasn't finding his brother. They were out of options. He was angry at them, refusing any help, and they didn't have the legal authority to make him help himself. All they could do was kick him out of the building after hours, encourage him to take some time off, and hope he did, but she was sure he just spent nights investigating on his own. Riza knew what he was doing. He was trying to be strong for his brother, to right what he sees as his fault, but it wasn’t his burden to bear alone.</p><p> </p><p>Even if he wouldn’t trust those words when coming from Riza, she really hoped he might from Winry. She may not be able to understand the grief he was going through, but she knew what it was like to force yourself to be strong. She knew how tiring it was, how it shredded you piece by piece, until all you wanted to do was lash out and scream. And damn it all if she was about to let him end up like her. </p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” Winry broke the silence with that one word, and an aggressive wipe of her tears. “Where is he?”</p><p> </p><p>----</p><p> </p><p>Being in the library with Mustang could only be described as suffocating. Al tried, really tried, to not show how upset he was at the man. He knew that this was his own fault, that he hadn’t protected his brother, that he hadn’t stopped him from leaving the office even when he had been warned. But that was just it. Mustang had warned them, but he didn’t tell the truth. He <em> lied </em> to them, and potentially cost Alphonse his brother in the process. As much as he wanted to forgive him,  forgive his team, and accept all the burden on himself, he just couldn’t do it. He was so angry- angry in a way he hadn’t known he could feel. Even with most of his rage and grief directed at himself, there was so much emotion that the rest had to go <em> somewhere. </em>And Mustang’s team had gotten the overspill. </p><p> </p><p>He couldn’t stop it from seeping out in little ways- avoiding them, saying he was too busy to talk, telling them to leave him alone when they asked if he wanted to. Where his brother was an unforgiving storm when he held a grudge, Alphonse was an erupting volcano's poisonous ashes. Far less flashy, but likely to kill you before the lava will. It infests every crease of a room with a suffocating drawl, filling your lungs with the sensation of cold death, hard to see, and impossible to escape. And with Mustang at the other end of the room, even though he was practically out of sight (And, since that night, Alphonse suspected he had been avoiding him as well), Alphonse wanted nothing more than to yell at him like he did before. He wanted him away, out of his memory, where the painful reminder of what happened couldn’t touch him. </p><p> </p><p>But that wasn’t an option. Mustang and his team were the best bet Alphonse had on locating his brother, and that was more important than any rage he held. So Al sat there, in miserable anger, scouring files for even the smallest hint of where Ed could be. </p><p> </p><p>He didn’t even notice Winry until she was standing over him. Her usual imposing force was much more gentle, marked by messy bangs and soft, puffy eyes. There was a glimmer on her cheek that he knew to be a tear mark. </p><p><br/>“Al,” She began, and his stomach sank a little. “Do you want to talk?”</p><p><br/>Al stared up at her. “Thank you for asking, but I’m fine.” He tried to even out his voice as much as he could, to cover the bitterness that crept into every syllable, and focus his mind away from its previous thoughts. It looked like she knew what happened, and he cursed Mustang’s team for telling her, as selfish as that was. There was no way she wouldn’t blame him for this- No. Winry would never blame him. She’d never scream at him for letting this happen, in the way that he deserved- that he almost wanted her to. Instead, she’d cry, and she’d try to help him, and that was almost worse.</p><p> </p><p>“Al.”</p><p> </p><p>“Winry, I’m fine. I just need to keep looking. I’ll find him, I swear, I-”</p><p> </p><p>“Alphonse,” Her tone was stern. “Al, come on, you need to take a break. You and I both know you haven’t had one in <em> days </em>.”</p><p> </p><p>“Winry, I <em> can’t </em>.” </p><p> </p><p>“Yes, you can,” She grabbed his arm. “Come on.”</p><p> </p><p>“Winry, you don’t understand, I’m the only one who can work on this without getting tired. I <em> need </em> to do this-”</p><p> </p><p>“No, you don’t,” She looked down at him. “Ms. Hawkeye talked to me. The police are on it, half the military is on it, you need to take a break,” Her eyes seemed to plead. “<em> Please </em>. I want to find him as much as you do, but you’re important to me too-” She cut off, her eyes becoming glossy, and she gripped his armor tighter. “Please, Al. You’re important too.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s my fault, though,” He focused on the notes in front of him, as if scanning them for the 50th time would give him more answers. “I’m the reason we’re in this mess, I can’t stop looking, even for a second. I can’t- I can’t give up on him like that.”</p><p> </p><p>Winry stared for a moment, the tears in her eyes welling up, and threatening to spill over the edges. “Quit that!” She slammed her fist on his shoulder, rattling him in the process. “Quit being an idiot! It’s <em> not </em>your fault, no one is blaming you! You and Ed <em>always</em> do this, anytime something goes wrong, you put all the blame on yourselves like you’re the only ones who have made mistakes, like- like you don’t trust us enough to ask for help!” The eyes of everyone in the library had turned to them, and he spotted Mustang among them. His stomach churned, and he switched his gaze back to Winry. </p><p> </p><p>“Winry, I-”</p><p> </p><p>“3 days, Al,” She hiccuped. “He’s been missing for <em> 3 days </em> , and you didn’t even call. We didn’t know anything was wrong until his <em> boss </em>told us to come.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m sorry,” He knew it was a pathetic excuse, and he tried to suppress the shake in his armor. “I was afraid- I’m sorry.” </p><p> </p><p>Her face softened into something unreadable. “Al,” She blinked, and another tear ran down her face. “Please, talk to me, for once.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay, just not-” He spotted Mustang once more, the man's lips downturned into something unreadable. Al looked away, and down to his shaking hand, trying to will it into being still again. “Just not here, and I’m bringing these files with me.”</p><p> </p><p>She let out a steady breath. “Fine.”</p><p> </p><p>The walk back to Winry’s hotel room was an awkward one. She kept giving him looks of concern, and he’d given up on trying to convince her he was fine. A part of him was sick of trying to. He couldn’t sleep, but he was so tired. Every aspect of his soul felt nauseated and exhausted. It was times like this that he wanted nothing more than to rest and escape the world, and he missed his body the most.</p><p> </p><p>“So,” Winry was the first to break the silence. “Why won't you talk to Mr. Mustangs team?”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s-” Al clenched his fist. “I’m mad at them.”</p><p> </p><p>“Have you tried talking to them?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not really, but- It’s not that easy, Winry. I know I shouldn’t be, I know this is my fau-” She threw him a look, her hand positioning itself near the pocket where she kept her wrench. The threat was clear. <em> Keep talking like that, and you’ll get a taste </em> . “They lied to us,” He sighed. “It’s petty, and I know I should get over it, but I just <em> can’t. </em> Everytime I talk to them, it just reminds me of how dumb I am, of how easily this could have been avoided.” He kicked a rock, his boot scraping grossly against the concrete below. “It’s not fair, to them, they didn’t want this to happen, but I just can’t bring myself to <em> care. </em> He’s <em> my </em>brother, and they- They could have prevented this. They could have warned us.”</p><p> </p><p>He knew he was being difficult. He was a horrible brother, and a horrible person too, apparently. Winry’s expression was only readable in the small pinch in her eyebrows, more thoughtful than anything. “You two are always so stubborn,” She laughed a little. “You never say what’s wrong, and your grudges last forever, yours especially.”</p><p> </p><p>“They do not! I’m super forgiving!”</p><p> </p><p>“Mostly,”  Her smile teased him. “You’ve always been weirdly patient, too. It’s almost scary sometimes.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s because I need to be level-headed to balance out brother’s crazy,” He mumbled, and his chest constricted a little. He’s felt empty, for the past few days, like a piece of his soul was missing without Ed by his side. “And I’m <em> not </em> scary. I’m very approachable even <em> with </em>the armor, thank you.”</p><p> </p><p>Winry laughed, and Al had a feeling he’d be flushed right now if he were able to. It was nice to see her. They’d barely talked since his brother and he had left to find the philosopher’s stone. He found her company comforting, despite its pretenses. As suddenly as her giggles had begun, they cut off, and her footsteps slowed.</p><p> </p><p>“Al,” She stopped walking. “You know that.. You know that none of us blame you, right?”</p><p> </p><p>“I know,” Everyone had been drilling it into his head ever since that night. “But..” But it was hard not to blame himself. Winry studied him like she knew exactly what he meant. </p><p> </p><p>“Do you remember when we were kids, and we all got lost in the woods?”</p><p> </p><p>“Oh yeah, and the town had to organize a search party.”</p><p> </p><p>“By the time they found us, it had only been a few hours, but Ed had already started crying, and then you did too, and then you both tried to act like you weren’t just as scared as I was,” She shifted beneath her bundled winter coat, and her tears dried against the frigid breeze. “You two were such an open book, back then.”</p><p> </p><p>Yeah, he guessed they were.</p><p> </p><p> “When you’re a kid, everything just feels so much more simple, and yet so much <em> bigger,</em><em>” </em> Winry’s voice was tinted with nostalgia. Her eyes sparkled beneath the dull sunlight that came in wisps behind stormy clouds. Al hoped, distantly, that Ed's ports weren't in pain from the poor weather. “Everything that's scary is terrifying, and everything good is so much better.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah..” </p><p> </p><p> He missed it, sometimes. On late nights, he found himself imaging what it may have been like if things had been different. If mom had lived, if dad had stayed, if they still had their bodies. He wondered if they would still bicker over certain things, if they'd still be just as good at alchemy without the extra push of trying to bring back their mom, even small stuff, like if anyone would have had a crush on him. He couldn’t help but to long for the normalcy of those daydreams. He couldn’t suppress the part of him that still wished things had been different, despite knowing that was the slippery slope that led them to committing the taboo. It was childish. You can’t bring back the dead, and you can’t change the past. He promised his brother and himself that he would never look back, but that didn’t make it easy, or any less tempting.</p><p> </p><p>“What I’m trying to say is,” Winry interrupted his thoughts. “It’s so much harder, now, then it was back then, and I don’t know how to help,” Her eyes were getting glossy again. “I can’t do alchemy, and I’m not any use with investigation stuff. I’m really only good at automail, but-” She looked to him. “I’m going to make sure you take care of yourself, until we find him,” Her gaze steeled on him, a ruthless, focused compassion etched into the details of her face. “I’m not losing you too, no matter what, so stop being a dummy, and let me help.”</p><p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Winry and Al, both 12 year olds: Wow, remember when we were kids?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Ed has his meeting with Clara.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's some torture in this chapter, so trigger warning for that.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ed’s nap was dreamless. Exhaustion had taken its toll on his still-recovering body and pulled him into a darkness that had been the most peace he’d had in days. By the time he awoke, the room was empty, and he was unsure of how long it had been. All he knew was that he was still there, in bed, and he wondered distantly if this was just a fucked up nightmare. The way his body throbbed as he tried to sit up said otherwise.</p><p><br/>
So, here he was. In a strange room, isolated from any help. There was no Alphonse to lecture him for getting injured, standing tall over him as he yelled about how reckless he was. No Winry to call for repairs. No Mustang to take his frustration out on, to bicker with, and demand some respect from. There were no books to study, no food to eat, nothing to do but to struggle out of bed, and hope that there was something, anything he could use to escape. He felt pathetically lonely.</p><p><br/>
His eyes caught newly washed clothes that sat folded on the desk nearby. He figured, before anything, he should probably get dressed.</p><p><br/>
It was only when he had sat up fully that he remembered how much of a pain in the ass getting around with half your limbs missing was. He stood on his right leg. A sharp pain protested through his thigh and chest, forcing him to take strained, shallow breaths. He cursed his stupid ribs for being bruised, his dumb, injured leg for making it so hard to move, and his head for the way his vision swam with fever. No part of his body was trying to work with him, and that was frustrating to no end.</p><p><br/>
As soon as he was able to stand fully, he nearly buckled and fell to the floor under his own weight. He hopped over to where a desk was, ignoring the pain through gritted teeth and furrowed eyebrows. The hard, wooden chair that was paired with it had quite an ugly design. Three legs with wheels on each, and thin poles of wood meant for back support that dug into your spine in all the wrong ways. He hardly noticed, more relieved at the fact that as he collapsed into it, the brutality of his injuries began to dull.</p><p><br/>
He sat there with closed eyes, shallow breaths coming to him in between the aches. He shivered. Sweat clung to his back, hot and sticky, and he knew the first thing he was going to do when he saw those motherfuckers is demand to take a shower. Spending an entire month on a deserted island had a special way of making you appreciate proper hygiene. While he had spent many missions sleeping in literal dirt since then, he still didn’t appreciate the way his hair was textured with grease, or how he could faintly smell his own body odor.</p><p><br/>
When his breath finally evened out, he opened his eyes, and stared at the neatly stacked clothes in front of him. Every atom of his body was ready to give up and stop moving, but his mind was searching desperately for something he could control, something he could do, something to make him feel less helpless. He needed to do this. He planted his automail leg on the floor, kicking so he could slide up to the desk. He hit it a little harder than expected, grunting as wood connected to his sore ribs, and trying to stop the nausea that rose.</p><p><br/>
As he reached to pull the shirt over his head, his eyes caught the shine of metal on his wrist. He squinted, dropping the clothing in his lap, and pulling his arm in for a better view. Symbols were etched into it, and the metal clamped against flesh without room for comfort. The scuffed texture indicated it was sealed alchemically.</p><p> </p><p>He spotted a rune for energy absorption, which sat next to a symbol for deconstruction, and another for.. A reversal of energy? His stomach sank. A shiver raced up his spine and became goosebumps across his body, and he realized what the bracelet was for. Even when he was missing an arm, they were really trying to cover their bases on not letting him perform alchemy. That was the only explanation of why they would put him in something made to deconstruct, absorb, and then rebound any transmutations back onto him.</p><p> </p><p>Fuck. He really might be in over his head here. What was he going to do? He couldn’t fight, or use <em>any</em> alchemy, even drawn, and those were practically the only solutions he had in his toolbox. Is there even an investigation for him? What if everyone thinks he’s dead and doesn’t bother? What if they kill him before anyone can get to him?</p><p><br/>
No. He couldn’t think like that, he wasn’t going to let himself despair after only 3 days. He glared down to his shirt like everything was somehow the clothes' fault. He supposed that was easier to stomach than accepting, fully, that he was a dumbass who got himself shot and kidnapped. “Fucking great job,” He sighed. The words were soft and a little slurred, but it was easier to talk than it was earlier. “They make an exception and let you join the military at 12 so you can get Al's body back, and your dumbass screws everything up within a year.” His stomach churned. He hoped to a god he didn’t believe in that they wouldn't consider disobeying Mustangs orders to stay behind insubordination.</p><p><br/>
“Talking to yourself already?” A voice spoke behind him, and he couldn’t suppress the squeak that fell from his lips. The voice chuckled at that. Ed swiveled the chair to see who it was, and against the doorway leaned Martins, seeming to be as bored as ever.</p><p><br/>
“The fuck do you want?” Ed’s voice was higher than he meant it to be. He glared into the man's apathetic gaze, trying to hide how startled he felt. “At least knock, you fucking creep.”</p><p><br/>
“Here,” He threw a bundle of black and white cloth at Ed’s face. “Clara wants you for dinner in 15, she said to wear that, not your other clothes,” He paused. “Guess it’s a good thing you only got the shirt on.” He gestured to Ed’s chest.</p><p><br/>
“Why does she care what I’m wearing?”</p><p><br/>
“Just put the damn clothes on and shut up.”</p><p><br/>
“Maybe I’d shut up if you weren’t such an asshole about everything.” Ed grumbled.</p><p><br/>
“Maybe I wouldn’t be an asshole if you would shut up.”</p><p><br/>
Ed rolled his eyes. He almost missed those two days of coma, at least he didn’t have to deal with this shit when he was incoherent.</p><p><br/>
“Y’know," Martins broke the silence with an amused smile. "Chris was right when he told you to tone down the snark. Clara’s gonna kick your ass if you talk to her like that.”</p><p><br/>
“I’ll talk however I damn please, and I’ll wear what I want too.”</p><p><br/>
“On second thought, don’t listen to me. There’s nothing more enjoyable than watching a brat get taken down a peg.”</p><p><br/>
Ed glared at him. “Someones going to find me, and I’m gonna get my automail back, and then I’m gonna beat you to a pulp. I hope you know that.”</p><p><br/>
“Good luck. Let me know when they arrive, and I might just let you,” He waved his hand dismissively, before something sadistic peaked through his smile.  “But I doubt that will happen, because nobody’s coming to rescue you. You’re going to stay right here until we’re done with you.”</p><p><br/>
Ed hoped the man didn’t see the goosebumps on his forearms. He swallowed, keeping his glare as steady as possible. He couldn’t show any weakness, he couldn’t give him that satisfaction. “You don’t know that. My superior officer just so happens to be a conniving shit who wouldn’t let me go if I was brain-dead, deaf, and blind. I guarantee him and his entire staff are looking as we speak," Assuming the military isn’t too pissed about wasting resources to locate him, he’s still one of Mustang’s assets. And Mustang keeps a death grip on anything he thinks will help him reach his goals. “I’m plenty strong enough to escape on my own, too. It’s only a matter of time before I’m back home and you bastards are rotting in prison.”</p><p><br/>
“I’m telling you, it’s useless. Being a brat is only going to piss her off, and we’ve been <em>very</em> careful in how we’ve hidden you,” His smile returned, and he rapped his fingers against the doorframe in a slow rhythm. “But if you’re so sure, I could always request that we ship you off to our Drachman friends. They’re far more nasty, but I think they could break that attitude rather quickly. Maybe I should ask for tips.”</p><p><br/>
That was useful information, Ed realized. Friends in Drachma meant that Clara had to be well-connected, considering how Amestris has a considerable border control shaped stick up its ass. That, or Martins was bluffing to mess with him, but considering how many people were at the warehouse, he had a feeling that wasn’t the case. He scoffed. “You guys couldn’t break me if you tried.”</p><p><br/>
“I’ll remember you said that,” Ed didn’t have time to react, or mull over how the glint in the man's eye was creepy as hell, before Martins spoke again. “Hurry up and get changed. I’ll be outside. Take too long, and I’ll make you regret it.” With that, he shut the door, leaving Ed to stew in his thoughts.</p><p><br/>
“Fuck you too.” He huffed.</p><p><br/>
He unfolded the clothes that Martins had thrown at him, revealing… A suit? Something about it felt familiar, but he was too weirded out to really care. They <em>do</em> realize they took his arm, right? Did someone miss that? Do they have any idea how fucking annoying it is to button a dress-shirt with only one hand? He rolled his eyes.<em> “What the fuck ever,”</em> He thought. <em>“This may as well happen.” </em></p><p><br/>
He slipped into the outfit to the best of his ability. He got a feeling that if he didn’t, Martins would probably force him into it himself. While he would love to be a pain in the ass, Ed couldn’t be out of stamina when he talked to Clara. (Not to mention the bruises from when Martins had checked his vitals were still fresh. While he was running on daze and adrenaline then, he still felt a tinge of fear when he recalled how his <em>hands covered his mouth and nose, the loose tears that stung his eyes, the fear, and how he couldn’t <strong>breathe, please, just let him breathe-</strong></em>)</p><p><br/>
The fabric was heavy and a little itchy against his skin. It reminded him of why he didn’t like suits. Well, that, and the fact that anytime he wore one, his resemblance to his pathetic excuse of a father became a little hard to stomach. All he could think about when he saw his reflection is Hohenheim, dressed up with that fucking tie and suitcase, back turned, ready to leave, glaring at him and his brother like it was <em>their</em> fault- Ed swallowed. He was really getting too far into his own head today, huh? He couldn’t afford to dwell on any of that, not now. At least there were no mirrors in here to remind him.</p><p><br/>
After 10 minutes, Martins came back in.</p><p><br/>
“You look shit even in something so well-made.” He said. Ed really couldn’t find it in himself to make a snappy comeback. He knew he was a mess, and the dread about the meeting was setting in. He didn’t know much about Clara other than that she seemed unhinged.</p><p><br/>
Martins approached him. If he noticed his silence, he didn’t seem to care. “Alright brat. I’m gonna pick you up so we can transfer you, so don’t squirm, or your head is going to become real friendly with the floor.”</p><p><br/>
“Fine.” Martins picked him up, and he hated how his cheeks flushed with humiliation. He clenched his fist and tried to pretend this wasn’t happening. It felt like they were mocking him on purpose, making it so he couldn’t move, putting him in this stupid suit get-up. Everything about it felt demeaning.</p><p><br/>
If nothing else, seeing outside his room might help him figure out the house's layout, and make his escape easier.</p><p><br/>
There were stairs. That was the first thing he noticed. It was smart, putting him on the second story. He couldn’t escape through a window unless he wanted to break something, and it would take forever to move down the stairs by himself. There were a few other doors, but each was closed. </p><p><br/>
<em>“If nothing else,”</em> He thought bitterly. <em>“At least I know I’m in a house. That means neighbors.”</em></p><p><br/>
Martins carried him down the stairs and into a dining room, and his eyes locked with Clara’s electric blue ones. He wasn’t able to get a good look at her back in the warehouse, but now he noticed the wrinkles in her face, and the blonde curls that cascaded into a shoulder length haircut. She looked to be in her 50’s, if he had to guess, and she was wearing an evening gown.</p><p><br/>
“Set him down across from me, Martins.” She overlooked Ed completely, choosing instead to gesture to a chair where a plate had been set. Martins obliged, and the wave of her hand dismissed him from the room, but not before he threw them one last look with a masked curiosity.</p><p><br/>
“Good evening, Edward,” She smiled at him, and he glared in response. “I hope you rested well.”</p><p><br/>
“As well as I could after getting attacked.” His tone was cold, and the way her eyebrows creased meant she caught his animosity. Good. He wanted her to know just how much he hated her guts.</p><p><br/>
“Yes, recoveries can be difficult at times. I’m sure you, of all people, would understand that,” She eyed the place where his arm should be, and a cold rage festered a home in his stomach. “Help yourself to the food, I’m sure you’re quite hungry.”</p><p><br/>
Ed eyed the plates near him, his stomach rumbling without his consent. He wondered how long it had been since he’d eaten. That didn’t really matter, he supposed, because right now his top priority was just getting something in his stomach. He stockpiled everything from potatoes to chicken to half a loaf of bread, not really making any effort to stop extra gravy or crumbs from getting on the tablecloth. More for them to deal with later was a win for him, after all.</p><p> </p><p>After about 2 minutes of watching him scarf down everything in sight, Clara spoke again. “As Martin’s likely told you, we’re here to discuss your staying here. Consider yourself an honoured guest with a few extra rules."</p><p> </p><p>"Is that what all this is about?" He rose an eyebrow. "The suit and feast and shit?"</p><p> </p><p>"Yes, Chris picked out your suit himself," She smiled. "I do hope you like it."</p><p> </p><p>Wait, why would he-? O<em>h. Fuck. </em>That's why he had been at the tailors shop, hadn't it? Ed felt like an idiot. Obviously, Chris didn't have a little brother he was buying a fancy outfit for. He was just running an errand for Clara, to prepare for Ed's arrival. Nausea rushed over him, and he tried to stop the sick, hopeless despair that was eating away at him from the inside out. Had every little thing been planned out like this? Like no matter what, Ed would end up here? Did he even stand a chance in the first place?</p><p> </p><p>“We want to make this as easy as we can for everyone.” Clara inturrupted his thoughts, resting her head against her elbow, and staring at him. Her eyes were analytical, he realized, like she was waiting for even the smallest slip, the right moment to strike.</p><p> </p><p>“You know what sounds easy?” He swallowed a large chunk of bread, hoping his emotions weren't showing too much on his face. “Giving me back my limbs and letting me go.” What was meant to be rude came out more pathetic than anything.</p><p><br/>
She let out an annoyed laugh. “I know you’re not stupid, child. That’s off the table.”</p><p><br/>
“I thought I said to stop calling me that-”</p><p><br/>
“The first rule,” She interrupted, placing a finger up with a composed grin. “Is that here, <em>you</em> don’t make the rules. I do. And I’ll call you whatever I want, <em>child</em>.”</p><p><br/>
He scowled. “Or what?”</p><p><br/>
She ignored him. “The second rule,” She put up another finger. “Is that we’re going to operate on a trust system. Behave, and I’ll give you treats, act out, and well…” She trailed off. “I’ll let you figure out what happens.”</p><p><br/>
“What kind of treats?” He raised an eyebrow. He doubted she would give him anything he could escape with, but it would be helpful to know.</p><p><br/>
“Perks. Books you wish to read, a journal to keep your thoughts in, allotted time outside. Whatever you wish,” She flashed him a smile. “Maybe even your automail, if you’re extra good.”</p><p><br/>
He couldn’t help the relief that rose in his chest at her words. He swallowed, before grimacing. She was manipulating him, there’s no way they would take a risk like that. “You’re bluffing,” He tried to read her face for any tells, but her smile kept steady. “You’re just trying to get my hopes up so I roll over and do what you want, so cut to the chase and tell me what the hell you’re after.”</p><p><br/>
“3rd rule,” A third finger shot up. “You don’t talk to me like that. Just as I make the rules, you treat me with respect. I am giving you a place to stay and warm meals, after all.”</p><p><br/>
“You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna kiss your ass. Just tell me what you want.”</p><p><br/>
“I want you to watch your tone," She seemed to mull something over, as if making an important decision, before smiling. "If you want to see your brother, that is.”</p><p><br/>
Ed’s mouth went dry. There’s no way they had Al, right? He made him an escape, <em>he told him to leave-</em></p><p><br/>
<em>“But Al is stubborn,”</em> A voice in the back of his mind told him. <em>“He probably got caught trying to save your sorry ass, and now he’s probably hurt, and it’s your fault.”</em></p><p> </p><p>The woman spotted his reaction, and latched onto it with a manipulative smile. “That’s what I thought.”</p><p> </p><p>“Where is he?” Ed couldn’t stop how both his voice and body shook. He knew, distantly, that putting his emotions on his sleeve right now was anything but clever, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He needed answers.</p><p><br/>
“Safe, for now.”</p><p><br/>
“But where?” Ed’s voice was rising, and sting in his eyes warned him of incoming tears. He wouldn't cry, he couldn't. Not in front of <em>her</em>. “If you hurt him, I swear to God I’ll make you regret it. I’ll make your life fucking hell. I’ll kill you, I’ll-” He bit back an angry sob. She didn’t falter.</p><p><br/>
“He’s safe as long as you behave. Now quit your yelling, it’s giving me a headache.”</p><p><br/>
He chewed on his bottom lip, trying to stop the way it wobbled, trying to think about anything but how worried he was for his brother right now. He forced the tears in his eyes to recede, taking breaths that didn’t seem to give him the oxygen he needed. He stared down at his food below. He no longer felt hungry.</p><p><br/>
“Rule number 4,” She continued. “Under no circumstances may you go down stairs unless someone is with you.”</p><p> </p><p>They sat in silence for a moment, and she gave him time to mull her words over.</p><p> </p><p>“Are you done?” He asked, not even bothering to keep the bitterness from his voice. “Because I’d still like to know why the fuck I’m here.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’ll tell you when the time comes.”</p><p> </p><p>“And when is that?”</p><p> </p><p>“You’ll know. You concern yourself too much with adult affairs, child.”</p><p> </p><p>“I joined the military at 12. I’m not a child, not anymore.” He'd stopped being a kid the moment he decided to commit the taboo.</p><p> </p><p>"And that's what's so disgusting, can't you see?" She tisked. "They're evil people, exploiting you for the public's approval and their own whims. Using your age to clear the name of the monsters within their ranks, forcing people to sympathize with them."</p><p> </p><p>"And I'm using them right back. It's equivalent," He narrowed his eyes. "And why do you care anyways? You're the one who assaulted me and dragged me away. At least the military was paying me to be there. Can't sat the same about you."</p><p> </p><p>"I can tell you still don't understand, it's pitiful. And here I'd hoped we could see eye to eye on this."</p><p> </p><p>"And why would that be?" Ed gritted his teeth. She had no business judging him. Al and him did what they could to get their bodies back, and when they weren't doing that, they were helping take down criminals who threatened the public. They never once took a life. What had he done to deserve this?</p><p> </p><p>"Because they're all scum fueling a broken system. Surely you've seen enough to realize that."</p><p> </p><p>"Not all of them," He glared. "Not me."</p><p> </p><p>"Yes," She smiled. "That's the problem," Her long nails tapped against the tablecloth, the rhythm only serving to increase Ed's unease. "You see, I'm conflicted. I hate this military. I want them all dead, and yet, I have a soft spot for children," Her eyes slid to him. "The question is, what to do about that?"</p><p> </p><p>"Go see a therapist and work on your homicidal thoughts," He said dryly. "I'm sure they'd help you, you're clearly off your fucking rocker."</p><p> </p><p>“Remind me of the 3rd rule, Edward.”</p><p> </p><p>He glared at her. “Sorry, my short-term memory is little foggy because of the fever,” He gritted a faux-innocent smile. “It was just so stupid that I forgot. Don’t take it personally,” He paused. “Or do.”</p><p> </p><p>"I'm guessing we'll have to do this the hard way," She sighed. "Maybe you'll be more rational once I show you the consequences for acting so inpolitely."</p><p> </p><p>She pulled something from her pocket. A remote, of some sorts. He didn’t have time to wonder what she was doing before the nerves in his arm seized from the bracelet up.</p><p> </p><p>For a moment, he wondered if somehow he was getting automail connected down his flesh arm. The only times he'd ever felt this kind of pain was then, and when he'd lost his limbs. He bit back a scream, his breath instead coming in short, pained gasps. He tried to claw at where the bracelet met flesh, a part of him realizing, through the pain, that it doubled as some sort of shock device.</p><p> </p><p>“Tell me the third rule, child.” She pressed it again, and he let out a sharp groan.</p><p> </p><p>“N-No.” He glared at her, seizing his arm, and trying to ignore the pain however he could. “I’ve-I've felt woe-worse, th-this…” She pressed it again, and he trailed off before he could finish. <em>“Isnothing.”</em> He finished in a short breath, barely a whisper, and he couldn’t make out any thoughts except for that it <em>hurt, and it was like he was a kid again, his arm missing, his brother a pile of clothes on the floor, and it <strong>hurt</strong>.</em></p><p><br/>
Another jolt brought him back as suddenly as he went. The dark spots in his vision told him he was going to pass out soon, and his fever wasn't helping. The room spun around him. He strained his eyes open, trying to channel all of the the hurt into a glare directed at the woman. He didn't want to pass out; he didn't trust what may happen if sleep claimed him, but as everything developed into a haze, he got the feeling he didn't get a choice. Within 40 agonizing seconds, with not a second of relief between the buttons clicks, everything had gone dark.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ed, upon seeing the suit: *stares into the security cameras in his room like he’s on The Office*</p><p>Also fun fact! The original draft of this chapter involved Clara telling Ed that Al had died, and him throwing his plate and a dinner knife at her face. I figured that would probably break him a little too early, though, and also I just felt bad for doing that to him. Sorry that the chapters a day late (depending on where you live), but I made it a little longer to make up for it. See you guys Sunday, and take care. This one was one I've been planning, so I really hope y'all like it!!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It's dark. He always hated the dark.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I don't have any specific trigger warnings other than that Ed's having a horrible time. Which is just a description of the series in general. Hope y'all enjoy. I wrote this in like 6 hours and I'm tired as hell.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Ed’s eyes opened to Clara standing over him. He was on the floor, he realized, and in a part of the house he hadn’t seen before. It was dank, and the only light was a lantern that Clara held in her hand.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah. So you’re awake.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He glared. He tried to pull his head up to meet her gaze fully before a searing pain shot through it. He panted and ceased the effort. “Seems like it.” The words were bitter on his tongue.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Good. I’m going to give you a chance to apologize for your previous actions.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Or what?” He snarled. “You’ll shock me again? You’re going to have to come up with something better than that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh I have,” The lantern reflected a gleam in her eyes, one that made Ed’s stomach sick with despair. “But first, I’ll give you a second chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>“No.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well then,” She clapped her hands together, as if she was more excited to hear that answer than a ‘sorry’. “Since you’ve decided to reject my hospitality, I’ve decided it’s only fitting that I stop being hospitable,” Between the darkness and the haze, Ed couldn’t make out much of the expression on her face, but her voice was callous. “You’ll stay here for a week. Anytime you talk back, you’ll earn an extra day. Do I make myself clear?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ed let out a tsk.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When you change your mind,” She continued. “Have someone send for me. Otherwise you can wait out your sentence alone with the mold and rats.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ll never apologize to you, bitch.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A week and a day, then. Enjoy your stay, since you’d obviously rather live in filth than be rational.” Before Ed could send another scathing remark in her direction, the door closed, and he was alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ed always hated the dark, and he hated being by himself more. He was anti-social, yeah, but he had never </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> had somebody around to talk to when he needed it. Being solitary gave him too much time to think, too much time to agonize over issues he’d rather leave in the past.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Too much time to let his mind wander into dark places; places he kept suppressed for a reason. Places he often avoided by staying busy, keeping his brain occupied by missions or studies or anything, really, to keep himself away from it. Thoughts, he realized after a few hours, were very hard to ignore when there was nothing to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The seconds-minutes-hours passed without interruption. His body was begging for rest, and his eyes were strained and heavy. He closed them, allowing unconsciousness to take over, and hoping his brain would comply.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  <span>The door opened, snapping any ability to sleep away from him before it could fully come. It was Chris. He set down a tray of food near where Ed was chained.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So the bastard shows his face?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris didn’t respond.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Y’know, the military’s after you. They’re gonna find you eventually.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Still nothing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ed felt his annoyance grow. “You’re an asshole.” He spat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door clicked as he left the room, and Ed was alone again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t see the food. He felt around for where he thought the tray was, and scooted it close to him. He was pretty sure it was some kind of chicken dinner, but it was hard to tell in the darkness. His hand knocked into styrofoam, and lukewarm water splashed onto him. Fuck. Now he had to wait for his next meal before he could drink, whenever the fuck that would be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The floor was grimy and poorly maintained, and his neck and back were already stiff. He wondered how long it had been. 6 hours, maybe? That sounded about right. Only 8 more days. That wasn’t too long. He could make it. He hoped Clara stopped being a cunt and let him out sooner rather than later, though, because he wasn’t about to apologize. He needed to get home, to leave before anything else happens, before he’s hurt for good. It was a terrifying thought, really, that there was a chance he wouldn’t make it out of this. He swallowed and squeezed his eyes tight.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He recited the elements in any order he could think of. Alphabetical, atomic number, symbol. He took comfort in the familiarity of the names on his tongue, how it made him think of relaxing nights spent studying, textbooks out, his hair and clothes disheveled, with bags that took residence under his eyes. And yet, it was then, that he was content as could be.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He shivered. He was still in the suit, but the long sleeves helped him feel less cold. His sweat was damp against the cloth, but he couldn’t tell if his mind swam because he was tired, if he still had a fever, or both. Probably both. He wondered if he should ask for medicine before shaking his head at the thought. They wouldn’t give it to him, and he wasn’t about to admit how horrible he felt, lest they take advantage of it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What was everyone doing right now? Clara had said that Al was safe, and he could only hope that meant he’d gotten away. He got the feeling she wouldn’t tell him anymore than that. He felt tears prickle his eyes, and wondered if he cried, if anyone would be back in time to see. He decided that if he could see himself do it, he’d be embarrassed anyways. He wouldn’t cry. Not because of them, not because of this.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe he could storm Chris the next time he came in. Could he use his tray as a weapon? Probably not, and that still brought up the issue of how he would run. Between being chained to the wall and not having either leg in a working state, he doubted he’d get far.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Wait until she has her guard down, gain her trust,”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Something that sounded like Mustang spoke in his head. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“She said if you behave, you’ll get perks. Trick her into giving you the upper-hand you need.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No fucking way,” He muttered to himself. “I’m not a manipulative asshat like you are, and I can’t do theatricals. I don’t think I can even stomach being around her for more than 5 minutes, much less rolling over like she wants me to.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Internal Mustang didn’t have a response to that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris came again. The dull lantern was a comforting source in the sea of darkness, but it hurt his eyes more than he would have liked. He turned his face and squeezed them closed, trying to adjust.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m guessing you’re not supposed to talk to me or something?” He muttered, keeping his gaze to the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris set the platter down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is that part of the punishment?” Ed laughed bitterly. “You guys are fucked.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris started to walk out, his footsteps even and void, as if he couldn't care less about the person he was leaving behind. As if Ed wasn't there at all.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A dull jab hit Ed's gut. He got the feeling that all the food he ate at dinner with Clara was catching up to him. “At least let me out to use the bathroom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“There’s a bucket. Use that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Relief flooded over Ed when he heard Chris talk, (It was a sick comfort, hearing someone speak after so long, even if it was someone he hated, it still made his chest constrict.) Before being overpowered by the heat rushing to his cheeks. “Ew! Gross! Just take me to the toilet, that’s disgusting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris said nothing else before shutting the door behind him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ed’s stomach rumbled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh fuck this.” He hissed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After he finished relieving himself (Which is really fucking hard when you’re missing a leg and can’t see anything) he sat back down to where he’d been before, heat still flushing his cheeks. He wondered how the people he knew would react to seeing him like this. If they would laugh, mock him for being so pathetic, or if they would pity him. He hoped they wouldn't pity him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stared up at the ceiling, and tried to imagine what it may look like.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He found out the next time Chris came in, taking advantage of the light the man brought so he could get a better view of his surroundings. There was nothing of use. The room was empty aside from him and the bucket. He had to stop himself from screaming in frustration. He was just missing something, right? There was a way out. He was just missing it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris came back again. It was always fucking Chris, with the tray in hand, and face masked with indifference. Ed wished the chain gave him enough mobility to punch him. Ed was aching to punch something, to jump up and run laps. Hell, he'd do burpees for the next 24 hours if it meant he could move freely. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Darkness swirled, and he wondered if he was asleep, because this seemed like the plot of some nightmare his hellbrain would come up with. Maybe it </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn't</span>
  </em>
  <span> really real, maybe he wasn't really here right now. It was a pathetic thought, really, a refusal to face reality, just the kind of thing he would sneer at somebody for a week ago. He would tell them to get a grip, that they needed to tackle the facts head on. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But it was hard. Before it had been so easy, he had been at fault. He needed to take responsibility, so he did. Simple as that. But now, he didn't know who to blame. Himself for being stupid? Clara for putting him here? Mustang for not warning him? There was fear, and hate, and regret, and he didn't know where to keep it. He couldn't ignore it, sitting in the dark, and anytime he pushed it out, it came back 10 fold. He closed his eyes. It would really be easier if he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> dreaming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Panic. That was the only thing he felt. Panic, and fear. He was hyperventilating, he realized that, and faintly, he could hear someone screaming his name.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ed!”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“.. Winry?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“ED!”  </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>He snapped out of his dream. It had been about a month since the automail surgery, but the pain still made it hard to sleep, and when he finally did, he always had nightmares.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ed?” Winry was talking to him, he realized that now. He opened his mouth to speak, but all that came out was a whimper. He averted his gaze and swung his flesh arm over his forehead, hoping she couldn’t see the panic that was still present in his features. The way her eyebrows furrowed gave him the feeling she did.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ed…” She put a hand on his forehead. Her hand was warm and a little calloused, and he had to stop himself from leaning into it. “Ed, you’re burning up..”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Oh.” </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is that why he was so cold? Why shivers racked through his body, and bile churned in his stomach?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Ed, I think these nightmares are causing you too much stress. I-I know that you’ve never slept well, but-” Her eyes were glossy. “If you need to talk about it, please tell me. I want to help you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Win, I’m okay. Don’t cry, it wasn’t that bad.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>She chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t believe that, but-” She inhaled deeply, a steadying breath to calm her nerves, and make the tears retreat. “Granny always told me that if you pinch yourself, it lets you know if it’s real. It’s helped me before, especially after my parents..” She trailed off, but Ed knew what she meant.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Ed smiled. “Winry, I doubt I’ll be aware enough while dreaming to remember that.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He banged his hand on the dirt floor. Pain shot up his still-sore arm. Yeah, he was definitely awake. He’s pretty sure, at least. It wouldn’t throb like this if he was dreaming, right? That’s what Winry said. He trusted her judgement. He curled into himself and closed his eyes, hoping sleep might take him, and make things better. He was so tired.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It didn’t. Or it might have. Did it? He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that his head was swirling, and he was straining for even the smallest amount of environmental stimulation. Sometimes he heard creaks, or thought he saw something moving in the shadows. When he called out, though, nobody was there. It was probably just the rats Clara mentioned, right? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>After a few more visits from his captor, Ed began to lose count of how many times he had been fed. At first he was distraught. His meals were the best thing he had to track the passing time, but he soon realized how weirdly fuzzy everything was becoming. He had difficulty keeping his thoughts straight, and hearing creaks and seeing movements in the dark had become voices, and the faces of people he knew. It was absolutely terrifying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They had to be drugging him. There was no other explanation, none that he wanted to accept, anyways. He wasn't going crazy. He needed to keep his grip on reality. There was something in the food.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He stopped eating, after that. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris was here. Ed was talking. When did he start talking?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why do you even work for her? She’s fucking batshit, Martins is a dick, and I’m sure anyone else playing her lacky is irritating as hell. You seem like the only person here with any stability in your head, aside from when you’re </span>
  <em>
    <span>shooting people in the leg</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” Ed grinned. “Yeah asshole, don’t think I forgot about that. And don’t think I won’t pummel you the second I get the chance.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ll make it easier on yourself if you just do what she says.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anger surged in his stomach, a nauseous, disgusting feeling forming at the very thought. “Fuck no.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris sighed, and that was the end of the conversation. Ed drank the water and closed his eyes. He felt too sick to bother eating. (Not that he would've touched it anyway. He hoped the water was clear of whatever they were slipping him.) Consciousness fled quickly, and then-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Golden rays peaked out of his blinds into lines of light in his bedroom. One caught his eyes, stirring him awake. The duvet was a warm embrace, he didn’t want to get up, didn’t want to face the world on such a peaceful morning. He was just so comfortable. He closed his eyes and turned over, trying to adjust himself so he could go back to sleep. He was still tired. Why was he so tired again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laid there, trying to slip back into unconsciousness. The minutes passed as he tried to clear his mind. No dice. He sighed, at least he hadn’t had any nightmares. He got the feeling he was probably late to work anyways.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brother?” Al’s voice echoed through the room. “Brother is that you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, who else would it be?” He yawned, rubbing sleep from his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was silence before Al burst through the door. “Brother!” Al ran over to his bed. “Brother! Where have you been?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What? Al, I’ve been right here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I-I-” Al was shaking, Ed just stared. Why was he acting so weird? They shared a room, where else would Ed be?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were dead, I was so worried…” Al clutched his hand around Ed’s blanket, staring down at the floor.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What?” Ed couldn’t suppress his laugh. “Al, why would I be dead? I’m right here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Brother...” The horror in Al’s voice was palpable. “You’re bleeding.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Haha, </span>
  <em>
    <span>very</span>
  </em>
  <span> funny, Al. I’m perfectly fine-” A hot pain seared from his thigh. Why did his thigh hurt? He looked down, and a crimson sea surrounded him. “.. What..?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why would you leave, brother?” Al’s shaking increased. “Why would you leave me alone? I thought we were supposed to get our bodies back, why would you leave?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Al, I don’t know what’s going on, I’m right here-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“WHY WOULD YOU LEAVE-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Ed stirred, he didn’t know where he was, but the air was stuffy and thick in his lungs. He took shallow breaths. It wasn’t enough. He couldn’t breathe. Why couldn’t he breathe? He moved his flesh hand to clutch his side, and pain seared up it, causing him to flinch. His breathing got quicker.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Al. He was talking to Al. He needed to talk to Al, where was his brother?! He needed his brother, dammit!</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You need to calm down before you pass out again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Someone was there. Why was someone there? Where was he?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re panicking, and the injuries make it hard to breathe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oh. So that’s what this pain in his chest was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Take some deep breaths. You’re being dramatic.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He did. She smiled down at him, giving him a sense of clarity and stability he didn’t have before. Right. He just needed to breathe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, teacher-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He jumped up. Where was he, again? He opened his eyes to darkness. Was he blind? Why weren’t his eyes working? </span>
  <em>
    <span>Did Clara-</span>
  </em>
  <span> Oh. Right. The familiar dirt floor pressed into his cheek, and that was enough to remind him of where he was, enough to calm the bile rising in his throat, if only a little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This sucked. He wanted to see Al. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to have to smell the scent of his own feces, or sleep on hard floors, or not be able to tell when he was awake or dreaming. He wanted his limbs, to see the sun, he wanted to be free.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to be here. Why was he here? What did he do to deserve this? How long had it even been? Maybe he should just give in. Demand to see Clara next time Chris stepped in, and apologize. Maybe resisting was useless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was shaking. When did he start shaking? It was getting harder to think clearly. His mind was woozy with pain, and every muscle in his body was on fire, and yet so cold. His thigh hurt.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He laid there. He couldn’t sleep. He was so tired, but it was impossible.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris came back in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sup, bastard.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As usual, he ignored Edward. Ed had lost count of how many times they did this, how many times he was brought food, and denied any interaction. If nothing else, at least Chris ushered some light in, even if it was really getting hard to take in his surroundings, it was still nice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’d you do today, be a bigger jerk-off than usual?” His words were slurred, and didn’t hold as much aggression as he would’ve liked. His platter hit the ground with a thump, and Ed gulped down the water as quickly as he could.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t want to be here. Why was he here? What did he do to deserve this? How long had it even been? Maybe he should just give in. Demand to see Clara next time Chris stepped in, and apologize. Maybe resisting was useless.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Wait, Chris was here, wasn’t he? Right, because there was light. Ed glanced up to the man.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What’d you do today, be a bigger jerk-off than usual?” His words were slurred, and didn’t hold as much aggression as he would’ve liked.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>How long had it been, again?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Chris raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ed was tired. With the lantern's help, he could notice how the edges of his vision seemed to swirl. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of the light comfort him, and then-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fullmetal? Fullmetal?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Bloodshot, golden eyes glanced up at analytical onyx ones.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fullmetal, are you really dozing off during our briefing?” Mustang’s lips were pressed thin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah,” He rubbed the sleep from between his eyelids. “You’re just so boring to listen to, I couldn’t help it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Riza chuckled, and Mustang shot her an incredulous glance of betrayal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re lucky I’m such a patient man, Fullmetal, or I’d make you drop and give me twenty.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huh. Ed always thought military officers only made people do that in the media.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” He grumbled. “Can you repeat what you just said?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I asked if you ever get lonely, Fullmetal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lonely? That was a weird question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why?” He raised an eyebrow.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just answer me.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Uh, yeah, I guess? Is this some sort of psychological evaluation? I thought we were done with those,” He pouted. “I already told you, I’m fine. I just have trouble sleeping.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And why is that?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know, insomnia. My brain just doesn’t slow down enough to sleep, I guess. It’s always running,” He paused. He didn’t want to tell them about the nightmares, that was too personal. “It’s fine, though. I just need some coffee.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And then you’ll feel better?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, probably.” He shrugged.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if it happens again tonight?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t fucking know, Mustang. I’ll drink </span>
  <em>
    <span>more</span>
  </em>
  <span> coffee tomorrow.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There was silence. Riza cleared her throat. “Permission to speak freely, sir.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Permission granted.” Mustang waved his hand with a nod.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What will you do when you see us again, Edward?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ed raised an eyebrow. “Like next briefing?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know what I mean. Stop pretending.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ed swallowed a lump in his throat, and the air seemed to catch in his lungs with her words. “I don’t, Lieutenant Hawkeye.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not really here right now. You know that.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Yes, Ed did, but it didn’t mean he wanted to let the normalcy go. God he was pathetic, clinging to fantasies after what could have only been a few days.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> he going to do?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You hurt people while you’re here, you push them away, but when you leave, you miss them. Why is that, Fullmetal? I would’ve never guessed you cared about me this much before.” Mustang smiled, leaning his head in his hand, and planting his elbow on the desk. He looked so goddamn cocky, and anger surged in Ed’s chest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t, bastard,” Ed snarled. “I don’t- I don’t need your pity. I can get through this by myself, I’ll get home, and everything will be fine again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if it isn’t?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s not an option. I have to get Al’s body back, I can’t rest until I do.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And if you die?” The area around Ed flickered into whiteness, and Mustang’s cocky smile became a grin.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Human’s don’t control life and death like they think they do, Fullmetal.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t Mustang anymore. Ed was looking at Truth.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the hell are you doing here?” Ed furrowed his eyebrows. “I didn’t preform any transmutations, why the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck</span>
  </em>
  <span> are </span>
  <em>
    <span>you</span>
  </em>
  <span> here?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your heart stopped. You’re crossing over into the Gate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, no that couldn’t be right. Ed was just awake. He felt fine, aside from the headache, and the fever, and how hard it was getting to breathe, and- Oh. Oh no.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The bullet wound became infected after being down there for 5 days with nobody to change the dressings. Now we have to wait to see if they revive you in time,” Truth grinned. “How exciting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re sick.” And Ed felt like he was about to be as well. He couldn’t die here, he needed to get home to Al.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re really in a tight spot, huh Alchemist? I’ve been watching.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course you have.” Ed rolled his eyes. “And I wouldn't suppose you have any idea of how I can get out of here?” He wanted to sound sassy, but he couldn’t help the desperation that seeped through. He couldn’t believe he was begging </span>
  <em>
    <span>Truth</span>
  </em>
  <span>, of all beings, for advice.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The solution is inside you, Alchemist,” Truth’s grin widened. “And would you look at that, the defibrillators worked.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wh-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And then the white became darkness once again.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This somehow managed to be both the most stress inducing and the easiest chapter to write so far. I hope it was as incoherently coherent as possible. I've been wanting to write some psychological horror in here for awhile, so please tell me what you think. </p><p>As I'm probably going to be busy with school work for a few days, I went ahead and wrote this ahead of time. I've been so excited to post it that it's going up early. I'm gonna try to get the next update on time, but worst case scenario I'll be back next weekend with an update.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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